Just Don't Let Me Down
by Relised
Summary: Gay bashing was a big reason Mickey didn't want to come out. But now that Ian's been hurt, he doesn't have much of a choice. IanxMickey
1. Chapter 1

_I don't own Shameless._

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><p><strong>Just Don't Let Me Down: Chapter 1<strong>

Mickey grinned as he slapped Ian's as the pale boy pulled his shirt back over his head. Ian rolled his eyes as he dropped back down onto the bench in the dugout.

"You know, it still surprises me how great that is, Fire Crotch." Mickey whispered, throwing his arm around Ian's shoulders. It was only in the dark in an abandoned little league field that Mickey felt comfortable being this open with Ian. And although Ian hated not being able to talk to Mickey in public, he'd take every ounce of affection he'd give him otherwise.

"I'll take that as a compliment," the younger boy mumbled back, burrowing his head in Mickey's shoulder. The two sat in silence for a while before Mickey climbed to his feet with a groan.

"Ready to head back, E?" He asked, holding out his hand to help Ian to his feet.

"Nah," Ian said, cracking his neck. "I think I'm going to go for a run."

"At one in the morning?" Mickey asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"It's cooler running now than in the morning," Ian said with a shrug as he climbed to his feet. "I'll see you when I get off work, Mick," he whispered as he kissed the older boy. Mickey moaned, a hand full of Ian's hair in his fist. He didn't care how gay this was, he liked.

"Be careful," he said with a grunt as he pulled away, keeping his eyes on Ian as he left. Ian grinned and shook his head as he started to stretch out.

Ian's spine cracked as he bent to tie his shoe, his focus trained on the double not. He stiffened when he heard footsteps, still not looking up.

"What, you ready for round two?" He asked as he turned around. However, it wasn't Mickey who stood behind him. Suddenly Ian wished he had kept the ex-con around. The Conkle twins were both Mickey's age but far more tough. The twins toward over Ian; their muscles were twice his size. Ian's blood ran cold when he saw that each boy held a bat.

"Uh, Alex," He stuttered. "Brett." Brett grunted in return as Alex stepped forward. Ian cursed silently when he realized they had cornered him; the only way out of the dugout was where they stood.

"I heard a funny thing about you Gallagher," Alex said, repeatedly bouncing the bat off his open palm.

"Uh, yeah?" Ian said, letting out a shuttering breath as his back ran into the cold stone wall. God how he wished Mickey would just come back even though he knew he wouldn't.

"Yeah, seems you're a cock sucker, Gallagher." Alex said, stepping forward, Brett following close behind.

"Who-Who told you that?" Ian asked, trying to sound strong and confident. Sadly, he failed. He'd always been a bad liar.

"It don't matter who told us," Brett finally said, moving so he was right next to his brother. "All that matter is we know, and we don't like it. So you know what we're going to do, Gallagher?" Ian gulped but shook his head, looking for a path to escape in vain.

"Well, we're going to beat it out of you," Alex said, his voice and face equally calm. Ian stared with wide-eyes at the older boy, wondering how he could be so calm. While he was distracted with one twin, however, Brett stepped forward and swung the bat.

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><p>At the time when Carl had broken that kid's knee who was holding Lip out the window with the baseball bat, it had been funny. But now, as Ian screamed out in pain and crumpled to the ground, he realized how unfunny it really was. Alex stepped forward and brought his bat down on Ian's other leg, ignoring his broken sobs. Ian tried to curl in on himself to protect his face but I felt like he couldn't move. He tried to close his eyes and pretend this wasn't happening but he was in so much pain. The bats kept repeatedly coming down, the sounds of breaking bones reigning through the air each time.<p>

Soon the twins got bored with the bats and moved on to their boots, kicking Ian again and again. He whimpered as he felt his ribs break, his breathing becoming more shallow. His neck and back were throbbing in pain and that worried him more than anything. Finally the two boy's got bored and Brett started digging in his pockets.

"He's not going to have much," Alex said, lighting a cigarette. "Fi had those kids on a tight leash."

"Yeah, but he's got this," Brett held up the cell phone Lip had thrown at him as he left that night. 'Don't want you running the streets at night without a way to call home.' He had said and Ian had rolled his eyes. But now his only means of calling for help was in risk.

"You don't say," Alex said with a smirk. "Don't want to leave this in the wrong hands." And with that he threw the phone to the ground, smashing it to pieces. "See you later, fag," he said, grinding his foot into Ian's hand as he left.

Ian whimpered again, the pain causing his vision to blur. He was afraid to move in case they had hurt his back but he knew he couldn't stay here. He tried to drag himself forward on his arm but the pain was too much. Just before he blacked out he prayed to a God he wasn't sure he believed in that someone, anyone, would find him.

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><p>Lip cursed as he slid down the stairs, his eyes adjusting to the darkness as the pounding continued at the door.<p>

"I'm coming!" He called, rubbing at his eyes, pausing momentarily at the bat wondering if he should take is with him. Finally he swung the door open, surprised to see Tony standing there.

"Is Fiona home?" He asked, biting his lip as he glanced back at the road.

"Uh, yeah, hold on let me go get her." Lip cocked an eyebrow at the cop. He groaned as he climbed the stairs, knocking at quietly at Fiona's door. "Fi? Fi, it's Tony. I think some things wrong."

Fiona swung her door open, her brown hair wild. She pulled on a jacket over her tank top and stared at Lip with wide eyes.

"What's wrong?" She asked, pulling her hair up.

"I don't know, Tony just asked for you." She sighed and headed down the stairs.

"Tony, what's wrong? Is it Frank?" Tony bit his lip and shook his head.

"You two should probably sit down."

"Just tell me Tony," Fiona growled, straightening her posture. Tony sighed, pausing as he looked around

"It's Ian," he said quietly and Lip's head shot up.

"What about Ian?" He asked, his mind running through a million possibilities. He knew his brother had met with Mickey that night but Mickey would never let anything happen to him.

"Doc. Miller went to the Little League fields to work out about an hour ago. He always runs down there in the middle of the night, says it's safe. Anyway, he found Ian in the dugouts. Someone beat him pretty bad, Fiona. Looks like a bat."

"Oh God," Fiona whimpered as she sunk low on the couch. "Is he…is he okay?"

"They took him to General, but they need someone to sign the papers before they can take him into surgery. I didn't know where to find Frank but I figured you'd know."

"Yeah, yeah, just give me a minute," Fiona said, climbing to her feet and looking around for clothes.

"I want to go with you," Lip said, his voice shaking.

"No!" Fiona yelled back, before lowering her voice. "Now, I need you to stay here with the kids. We aren't going to be able to see him for quite some time so there's no point in dragging you all down to General now. So you stay here with Deb's and Carl and Liam and I will call you in the morning when it's okay to come down, okay? Can we go, Tony?"

Lip stared, his heart breaking as his sister sped down the street.

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><p>Mickey paced back and forth, occasionally looking up at the clock that hung above the television. Ian was supposed to be off work an hour ago and it only took 15 minutes to get to Mickey's from the store. He sucked hard on his cigarette, letting out a shaky breath as he looked at the clock again. Finally a knock came and he practically ran to the door.<p>

"Running a bit late there, Fire Crotch," he called as he opened the door, stopping short when he realized it was Lip and not Ian on the other side of the door. "Lip?"

"Dude, I need to talk to you." Mickey furrowed his brow but stepped back, nodding towards his bedroom.

"What do you want, Gallagher?" He growled, looking at the clock next to his bed.

"You can drop the act, Mick, I know about you and Ian." Mickey bit his lip and nodded.

"Then what do you want. And where's E?"

"That's what I need to talk to you about. What time did you leave him last night?" Mickey frowned, thinking hard.

"I don't know, around one?" He said, searching Lip's face for answers.

"Then I guess it happened right after you left." Lip said, putting his head in his hands.

"What happened?" Mickey said, his voice cracking.

"Someone jumped him. With bats. Beat the shit out of him." Mickey's blood ran cold, his eyes wide.

"Where is he?" he asked, afraid to move.

"General. He's been in surgery for a couple hours now. Fi called about an hour ago, I guess there was some complications. That's why it's taking so long. She said they weren't sure about all his injuries yet, but it's bad. Really bad, Mickey."

Mickey sank onto the chair at his desk, his heart jumping into his throat. His ginger, his boy was laying hurt in some hospital and it's been over 12 hours and he had had no idea anything was wrong.

"I know you're still weird about this stuff," Lip said quietly. "So I wouldn't come around during the day any cause Fiona probably won't leave until the make her. I think visiting hours are over at 5 but knowing you, you could probably sneak in without a problem."

"Shit I'm going to be sick," Mickey mumbled as he launched himself to his feet and into the bathroom. There wasn't much in his stomach and his throat screamed in protest as he hurled.

"Dude, you got to calm down," Lip said, glancing into the hallway in case anyone heard.

"Calm down?" Mickey exclaimed, his voice cracking. "They beat the shit out of him 'cause he's gay, Lip. You can't convince me otherwise. What, me next?"

"No one knows you're gay," Lip whispered. "Just me and Ian. Now pull yourself together because he's going to need you. I've got to get back to the house; Deb's is watching Carl and Liam. I'll call you once he gets out of surgery and let you know what' going on. Just keep yourself together."

Mickey let out a shaky breath and nodded, following Lip to the door.

"I'm assuming you'll pass the word on to Mandy?" Lip asked and Mickey nodded. "It'll be okay, dude. He's a strong kid, he'll fight for this." Mickey nodded again as he shut the door behind Lip. It was going to be a long day at the Milkovich house.

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><p><em><strong>AN:<strong>__ I hope you liked it. Please review. _


	2. Chapter 2

_I don't own Shameless._

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><p><strong>Just Don't Let Me Down: Chapter 2<strong>

Mickey stood with his back against the alley wall behind the store, sucking desperately at his cigarette for any kind of relief. He let out a shaky breath before running a hand through his hair, cursing when he messed up his gelled locks. With one last sigh he threw the stub of a cigarette to the ground and pushed himself off the wall. He hesitated just a moment before walking back inside.

Linda stood behind the register, reading a newspaper with a worried look on her face. When she looked up, her trademark frown dropped off her face. Mickey knew Ian had told her about him when he had got the job a month previously, and surprisingly that didn't bother Mickey. He moved behind the counter and didn't put up much of a fight as she pushed him down on a stool.

"You don't have to stay, Mickey," she said quietly and Mickey shrugged. "You can go home if you want to. I'm sure there's something you'd rather be doing after…after this morning."

Mickey didn't move. He kept his eyes trained on the rack of Twinkies in front of him. The red on the wrapper made him think of Ian's hair and he had to force himself to look away. Linda squeezed his shoulder and he finally looked up.

"If I go home," he started slowly, his voice monotone. "If I got home, I'm going to kill myself." Linda gasped slightly, her hand never leaving his shoulder. "If I don't have something to do, I'm going to keep thinking about what they did to him and how I wasn't there. And If I keep thinking about it, I swear to God I'm going to kill myself. So fucking give me something to do."

Linda sighed and nodded. She pulled out a notebook from under the counter and started making a list. They were mostly shit jobs, things that only got done around the store once a year but if that meant keeping Mickey from doing something stupid they could be done again.

"Let me know if you hear anything, Mick," she said quietly as she dropped the list in his lap. She paused at the doughnut box and pulled out a sprinkle covered ring. She gave Mickey a small smile as she placed it in front of him before walking upstairs.

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><p>Mickey was sitting on the floor, taking every can of soup of the rack and dusting the shelf before returning them. He paused for a moment when the bell rang above the door but didn't bother getting up. He spun a can of tomato soup around in circles, his eyes not really focusing on what he was going. He cursed and shook his head, forcing himself to focus.<p>

"Mick?" someone called, and Mickey looked up to see Lip standing at the front counter.

"Yeah?" He said back, and Lip poked his head around the corner.

"Why are you on the floor?" Lip asked, walking down the aisle.

"Linda's version of suicide watch," Mickey answered, nodding up to the camera that was trained on him. Lip bit his lip and nodded, dropping down to sit next to Mickey. The two boy's stayed silent for a while and Mickey kept putting soup back on the shelf. Finally Mickey couldn't wait any longer. "So? I know you're here for a reason."

Lip looked up at the camera, longing for a cigarette but knowing that was one sure way to have Linda flying down the stairs. He hugged his knees close to his chest, a move he was sure he picked up from Ian before sighing.

"Fiona called about an hour ago. He's out of surgery. I guess it was pretty touch and go for a while though. But he's stable for now. Fiona said there were a lot of injuries that she's not sure how the doctor described them so I'm going to head down there soon to talk with the doctors."

"Shit," Mickey mumbled, letting out a sigh of relief. He let his head fall back on the freezer behind him and closed his eyes. "Anything else?"

"The only thing she was sure of when I talked to her was his lungs. I guess whoever did this to him broke a couple of his ribs. One of them punctured a lung so they've got him on some machine so it can breathe for him. Fiona said that they were going to keep him sedated for couple days. You know, give his lung a chance to heal up a bit and to make sure he doesn't wake up with a tube down his throat and freak out."

"Trust me, he can take a lot down his-" Mickey started but stopped when Lip punched his arm.

"So help me, Mickey, if you start making comments about my brother's sex life, even if they are true, I will kill you."

"Sorry, force of habit," Mickey whispered back.

The two boys sat quietly, Mickey silently thanking God that Ian was still alive. He looked over at Lip, biting his lip.

"When can I see him?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Lip sighed, trying to think.

"Not tonight, Dude," he started, climbing to his feet. "Fiona took the night off work and I don't think she plans on leaving. But she'll have to go back to work tomorrow night since we'll be paying on these bills forever, so then I guess. We have to…we have to make a list of people that are cleared to see him since he's in the ICU. I'll make something up to get you on the list without telling Fiona the real reason."

"Thanks, dude." Mickey said, offering a hand out to Lip. The two boys stared at each other for a moment before Lip shook his hand. "Just let me know when your sis is gone tomorrow. I'll be there right after." Lip nodded and let himself out.

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><p>"Well I got you on the list," Fiona said, brushing her hair out of her face, a pen clutched tight in her hand.<p>

"That's it?" Lip said, sitting across from her with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"The doctor said no one under thirteen so that leaves out Debbie, Carl, and Liam. Frank doesn't have to be on the damn list since he's considered his Legal Guardian. Which, by the way, don't let me forget to track Frank down and have him sign this once we're done."

"Will do. Don't forget Veronica and Kevin. And Mandy." Lip took a sip of his coffee, trying to play it off as natural.

"She still bearding for him even now that I know?" Fiona said, writing the three names in her loopy script.

"Yeah, I guess you can say that. And you might want to add Mickey. They've become pretty good friends while Mickey was in Juvie. Pen-pals and all that shit."

"Pen-pals?" Fiona asked, her eyebrow cocked. "Ian never got any mail?"

"He'd send it to Mandy and she'd give it to Ian." Fiona sighed and nodded, writing Mickey's name after Mandy's.

"We'll I think that's our list. Now to go find Frank and head back to the hospital. Make sure Debbie and Carl go to bed before midnight. Um, I'm not sure about dinner…V might have something for you guys."

"I'll figure something out, Fiona, its fine. Just go." Fiona pulled Lip close, taking in the smell of smoke that clung to his hair.

"Be good," she whispered. "And be careful. I can't stand what would happen if something happened to you guys, too." She kissed Lip's forehead, smirking when he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

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><p>Mickey was carrying a pile of boxes out to the dumpster the next day when Linda called for him.<p>

"Mickey, Lip's on the phone. Make it quick," Her voice was stern but he could see the worry in her eyes. He licked his lip and nodded, reaching out for the phone.

"'Lo?" He said, his voice shaking.

"Mickey? It's Lip. Fiona's going to be leaving here around five to get ready for work so any time after then is fine. He's on the sixth floor; there's a desk as soon as you get off the elevator that you have to check in at. Don't worry, I got your name on the list so they shouldn't stop you. He's in room 655, but a nurse will probably show you the way. I'll still be here, so I'll see you when you get here."

"How's he doing today?" Mickey asked, looking around to make sure no one heard the gentle tone he used.

"Dude, he just got out of surgery yesterday. Nothing's changed yet. Just let me know when you get here." With that Lip hung up. Mickey sighed, looking at the clock behind where Linda sat. He just had a little bit over an hour before he got off work and Fiona left the hospital. It was a half hour ride on the L to get to General. He bit his lip and went back to work, constantly throwing glances over his shoulder at the clock. After about a half hour, Linda sighed.

"You're making me anxious just watching you, Mickey," She sighed, laying her book on the counter.

"Sorry, can't help it," he mumbled. He bent down to pick up another box, groaning as his back cracked. Linda turned around and looked at the clock before sighing again.

"Finish that box and then you can go," She said, picking her book back up.

"What?" Mickey said, almost dropping the box in his hand.

"I said, finish that box you're working on and then you can leave. Like I said, you're making me anxious. I can close up by myself. Just go to your boy." Mickey and Linda met eyes and held eye contact for a while. Mickey gave a small smile and nodded, quickly putting the cans of beans on the shelf and breaking down the box. He grabbed his bag and paused at the front counter.

"Thanks Linda," he whispered, tapping the counter.

"Just tell Ian we're thinking about him."

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><p>An older woman with blue hair in ridiculous pink scrubs with Snoopy all over them looked up over her glasses at Mickey. He shifted from one foot to the other, his fingers digging into the scar on his thigh through his pocket.<p>

"Can I help you?" She said, her voice hoarse from years of smoking.

"Uh, yeah," Mickey said. "I'm here to see Ian Gallagher. I'm on the list." The nurse, whose name tag said Pam, sighed and pulled Ian's chart into her lap.

"Name?"

"Mickey Milkovich," he answered, licking his lips. Pam ran her finger down the short list, stopping on the last name and sighed with a nod.

"Room 655. Down that way. The brother should still be there." She went back to her book, not looking up anymore.

"Ugh, thanks," Mickey said, turning on his toes to walk down the hallway. He paused in front of Ian's room and knocked on the doorframe.

"Shit," he heard Lip mumble as he stumbled to the door. "Mick? That was fast. I thought you didn't get off work until 5? It's only 5:15?"

"I was making Linda nervous so she sent me early. Fiona's gone though, right?"

"Yeah, yeah she's gone. Um, come on. We talked to the doctor's before her and Frank left so I can officially tell you what's wrong." Lip nodded his head into the room and Mickey followed, glancing behind him.

The ex-con stopped short at the foot of the bed, his heart jumping into his throat. Ian was always pale; that and his ginger hair was what Mickey really liked about him. But now his skin was so pale it was almost see through; all of his veins were visible under the skin and he looked so frail. Bulky metal structures had been screwed into different part of his body keeping him still. His chest rose and fell in rhythm with the machine next to his bed.

"Fuck," Mickey said, swaying on his feet.

"Starting from the bottom," Lip said, flicking his nose. "Broken tibia and two shattered knee caps; these metal things are to hold his knee caps together while they heal. Broken pelvis, more metal things. There was some internal bleeding in his stomach, but that's been stopped. Broken right wrist, shattered left hand. Um, there's four broken ribs, one that punctured his lung. They uh, they took a baseball bat to him and broke his back and neck pretty high up," Lip gestured to his own back with his fist. "Like right in there. So the surgeon's put a metal rod along his spine to help it heal. This halo's to keep him from moving his neck so it can heal. It'll probably be on for about three months. Ian was apparently smart enough to protect his head; there's no brain damage or anything so that's good."

"Fuck," Mickey said again, dropping into a chair next to Ian's bed, his eyes not leaving the small boy. Lip sat back down in his own chair, watching Mickey. It amazed him how much he cared about Ian. For someone as tough as Mickey, he was surprisingly sensitive. Lip cleared his throat.

"I…I guess we don't have to worry about West Point anymore," Lip said, his voice low.

"Fuck you," Mickey whispered back. "Too soon, man. Too fucking soon."

"Sorry," Lip whispered.

"He's not going to be the same, is he?" Mickey asked, leaning forward and gently wrapping his pinking in Ian's. He was afraid to touch his boyfriend in case he hurt him. The heart monitor stayed steady next to his bed.

"You mean mentally or physically?" Lip asked, tapping his fingers on the arm rest of his chair.

"Both," Mickey asked, running his thumb over the back of Ian's knuckles.

"Doubtful," Lip answered honestly. It's going to take months of physical therapy before he'll be upright, let alone on two feet. And could you have something like this happen to you and be fine mentally? We've got ourselves a mess, Mickey. And it's just starting."

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><p><em><strong>AN<strong>__: I hope you liked it. Please review. _


	3. Chapter 3

_I don't own Shameless._

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><p><strong>Just Don't Let Me Down: Chapter 3<strong>

Mickey stood behind the cart at Wal-Mart as Mandy compared prices on two different cans of soup. His mind was elsewhere, the image of Ian on that hospital bed burnt into his brain. He jumped slightly when Mandy hit his arm.

"What?" he said tiredly back, leaning heavily on the cart.

"Which do you prefer?" She held up two cans, both off brands that looked like shit. She squinted her eyes in worry at her brother. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Don't worry about it. And I don't care. Dad likes that one though," Mickey said, pointing at the can in her right hand.

"Seriously Mick, what's wrong?" Mandy asked, nodding him on. Mickey sighed and shook his head, running a hand over his face.

"Seriously, it's nothing. I'm just really tired. I've taken over Ian's shifts for now since Linda just had the baby and can't do it all on herself. And I've been doing my community service hours and stuff. I'm just tired."

The two Milkovich siblings stared each other in the eye, Mandy trying to get anything else out of her brother. Finally she sighed and nodded.

"Want to go with me to see Ian after we take this stuff home?" Mandy asked as she put a loaf of bread in the cart. Mickey grabbed a box of twinkies but Mandy slapped his arm and put it back.

"I've gotta be at work at 2," Mickey answered, pushing the cart up towards the cash register.

"Have you even been to see him?" Mandy asked, her hands on her hips. "I thought you two were great friends now?" Mickey bit his lip and nodded.

"That second night," he whispered. Truth be told, Mickey had been there every night that week. He'd wait until after five when he knew Fiona would leave for work. He'd check in with Pam, who barely looked up over the counter, and would slip into Ian's room. He'd curl up in the chair and wait. Sometimes he'd read the paper, most times he'd just watch. There was something soothing about watching Ian's chest rise and fall, even if it was a machine making it happen. It had been five days since the attack and the doctor's had decided they were going to start weaning him off the sedative to let him wake up by himself soon. Mickey couldn't wait to see those blue-green eyes again.

Mandy chewed on her bottom lip, watching her brother's face. She sighed and nodded.

"You can go with me some other time this week," she whispered as she started unloading the cart. Mickey cleared his throat and nodded, not trusting his own voice.

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><p>Mickey sat behind the counter of Kash &amp; Go, a brochure for the local technical school open in his lap. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to go, but he knew he couldn't work at the store for the rest of his life. He looked up when the bell rang above the door and nodded at Mrs. Johnson who shuffled her way down the vegetable isle. He folded the brochure back up and shoved it in his bag under the counter. He gave a small smile to Mrs. Johnson that quickly fell off his face when he realized she was paying in all change again. He tensely told her to have a good day before dropping back down onto the chair. The bell rang again and Mickey sighed.<p>

"Rough day?" Lip asked, raising his eyebrows in question.

"Just a lot on my mind," Mickey asked, his eyes shooting to his bag and back. Lip nodded in agreement and went back to the store to grab to Pepsi's. He laid the money on the counter and handed one pop to Mickey.

"This ones on me. Just wish it was a bit stronger." Mickey nodded his thanks and looked out the window.

"I finally understand what Frank feels like when the disability people followed him. My probation skank is constantly on my ass."

"Aren't you worried she might try to pop you?" Lip asked, pulling another chair behind the counter.

"She's got nothing to pop me on," Mickey said, shrugging. "I've been working. Hell, I'll even have twice the required hours now that I'm working E's hours." Lip grinned in despite himself at Mickey's nickname for Ian. "I've almost got all my community service hours done; I had been going with Ian to volunteer at the VA Hospital and other stuff. I just have like ten more hours? I've passed every drug test she's given me. I don't have a curfew so it's not like she can get me on that. I haven't been in any fights, all the guns in our house are in Dad's name so it's not like I'm in possession of them. She's just giving me a hard time. And I don't really need that right now." The two boys stayed silent for a while, both enjoying their pops. Finally Lip spoke.

"The sedatives should be pretty much all out of his system. Doctors say he should wake up tomorrow, maybe the day after. But they kind of want someone with him at all times now. You know, so he doesn't wake up by himself and freak out. I know you go at night for a bit when we aren't there, but think I can get you to stay all night tomorrow, maybe the next night?"

"You really thought you had to ask? Of course I'll stay." Mickey said.

"What do you do all night when you stay?" Lip asked, throwing his empty can in the trash.

"Mostly just watch him breathe, watch him sleep." Mickey said, running a hand through his hair. "I…don't judge me for this, dude. But Fiona left one of Debbie's books in his room the other day. I guess she was reading it to keep herself from getting bored. So I started reading him the Hunger Games. You know, to pass the time." Lip smiled slightly.

"Good choice. He's read it before but if I remember right he really liked it." Mickey bit his lip and nodded. "You ready to do this? I mean, him waking up soon opens a whole different can of worms."

"I don't know if he ever told you this," Mickey said, his hand pressing the scar on his thigh through his pocket. "After Kash shot me they took me to General. It wasn't a deep wound, but they still had to cut the bullet out of me so I obviously had to have surgery. And when I woke up I was handcuffed to a bed and alone. I mean, Dad was off drunk someplace, and Mandy and our brothers were nowhere to be found. And I felt like shit because my family didn't even care enough to show up after I'd been shot. And that's when I saw him; Ian was curled up in chair next to my bed. And it amazed me that this boy I'd treated like shit cared more about me than my own family. And I want to be there for him like he was for me."

Lip didn't answer for a long time, his hands digging into his sides. "He never told me. I mean, Monica was around then and we were going through a bunch of shit. Last thing he needed was me giving him shit about his choice in men. Which, by the way, you're a lot better than Kash." Mickey laughed, a small frown on his face.

"That's the thing; That whole mess started when Kash caught us fucking in the back room. Ian came to me after you're mom showed up and that was the only way I could think of to make it better. Next thing I know I'm taunting Kash and I have a bullet in my leg. And Ian's life was already a mess and I just added more drama."

"Ian's life is always going to be a mess. He's the gay son of two alcoholics. And he may not be Frank Gallagher's son, he was raised by him which makes things worse. You're not going to make it worse, Mickey. You're making it better." Lip stood, moving to the front of the counter. He frowned slightly at the donation bucket with Ian's face on it. He smiled though, when he saw people had actually put money in it. "Guess this town doesn't suck so much after all."

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><p>Mickey was just getting ready to lock up when Frank came staggering in. He walked to the back and grabbed a forty and wobbled back up to the front of the store. He paused at the donation bucket and Mickey could see his mind working.<p>

"I'll…I'll just take this," Frank said. "It's for my kid, after all."

Mickey was over the counter before Frank could even take another breath. He grabbed the older man's shirt and pulled him closer.

"If you know what's good for you, Frank, you'll leave that money right there. That's to help pay for Ian's bills, not for you to get drunk off of. How they got your ass sober enough to sign the goddamn papers is a mystery." Mickey let go and Frank stumbled back. "And you'll pay for that forty, you got it?" Frank stumbled again and then pulled a ten out of his pocket. "I'll put your change in the bucket. Maybe Ian will see some of your money or once."

"Fuck you," Frank growled but left without much a fight. Mickey sighed but locked the door after him.

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><p>Mickey had hoped that the first time Ian would be awake would be with him. However, it was Lip that was with him when his blue-green eyes finally opened.<p>

"Ian?" Lip said, his voice quiet as he wrapped his finger around Ian's. Ian's eyes went wide and moved frantically as he tried to look around. He tried to move around but Lip held his shoulder down gently. "Hey kid, calm down. You were attacked and you're pretty banged up. Don't try to move, Ian, do you understand me? Blink once for yes, twice for no."

Ian blinked once slowly and deliberately, his eyes still wide. "Good. Okay, when you were attacked they broke a couple of your ribs which punctured your lung. That's what the tubes for, okay? It's got to stay in until the holes healed, okay?" Ian blinked once again. "Do you…do you want to know what else is wrong?" Ian didn't answer for a moment but then blinked twice. "Right, okay, don't want to overwhelm you. We can talk about it later."

Ian still had a finger wrapped around one of Lip's and he squeezed it before pulling his hand clear. He pointed carefully at the pencil Lip had tucked behind his ear. Lip nodded and pulled it out, carefully fitting it into Ian's right hand. Thankfully that was the less injured hand out of the two. He then sat the newspaper he was reading under the pencil. Lip watched as Ian carefully adjusted the pencil in his fingers before slowly drawing a Mickey Mouse head in the corner.

Lip couldn't stop the laugh that escaped his lips. "Mickey's going to kill you if he hears you're comparing him to Mickey Mouse. But yeah, he's been here. He's been here every night and I'm sure he'll be here tonight. He's been worried about you. He's really worried, which is a weird emotion to see one Mickey Milcovich." Lip smiled as Ian's eyes lite up. "Get some sleep, buddy. You need it."

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><p><em><strong>AN<strong>__: I hope you like it. Please review. _


	4. Chapter 4

_I don't own Shameless._

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><p><strong>Just Don't Let Me Don't: Chapter 4<strong>

Mickey met Lip at the coffee cart in the lobby, a hoodie and Debbie's copy of the Hunger Games tucked under his arm. He figured if he was going to stay with Ian the entire night he might be able to finish the book. He was just adding sugar to his coffee when Lip bumped into the side of him, a big grin on his face. Mickey raised an eyebrow, fitting the lid back on his coffee.

"What's with the grin, douche bag?" He asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the taste. He hated coffee, even with a ton of sugar. He just knew he wouldn't make it through the night without something.

"Ian woke up a couple hours ago," Lip said, handing a five to the cashier.

"And you didn't call me?" Mickey asked, his voice upset.

"He went straight back to sleep. But this time it's a real sleep, not that damn drugs knocking his ass out sleep. He can wake up anytime he wants now." Lip took a sip of his own coffee, a smile playing on his lips.

"Thank God," Mickey said, dropping down into a chair near-by. Lip grinned and nodded, pulling the newspaper out of his pocket.

"He asked about you, actually," Lip said, a small grin on his face.

"Yeah?" Mickey asked, failing to try to hid his face. He raised an eyebrow before continuing. "And how did he do that since he can't talk?" he asked, taking another sip of his bitter drink.

Lip slid the newspaper across the table, tapping the Mickey Mouse head in the top corner. The oldest Gallagher boy slid back, barely missing the spray of coffee when Mickey spit it out.

"You're shittin' me." Mickey said, his face slightly red. Lip just laughed, shaking his head.

"In his defense, I figure drawing a mouse head was easier in that cast than writing out your name. But he was worried if you'd been there or not. I told him you'd be here tonight, just like every other night."

"Thanks, man," Mickey said, finishing the rest of his coffee and debating if he should waste the money to get another one. "We should make it through this dumb book tonight."

"Don't lie, you like it," Lip said, standing up. "By the way, I started a little code with him that we're trying to keep constant. Keep it yes and no questions. If he blinks once that means yes and twice means no."

"That's helpful, thanks dude. What time does Fiona normally get here in the morning so I can leave in time?" Mickey asked, nodding to the lady at the coffee booth again to get another cup.

"Normally around eight. The nurses will probably kick you out around five, though. Just a heads up. Have a good night, Mick." Mickey sighed but nodded, sweetening his sugar before heading for the elevator.

* * *

><p>Mickey had his feet propped up carefully on the edge of Ian's bed. He took every precaution to not move the bed any in case he heart his boyfriend. He had angled the chair so he could reach Ian's hand; his own hand was wrapped around two of Ian's fingers, his thumb running over the back of his knuckles. A newspaper laid open on his lap as he sipped absently at his coffee which had already gone cold. He flicked the paper to the back and was focused on a story about a mugging on Central St. when Ian's hand moved under his.<p>

Mickey about dropped his coffee as he sat up, wincing when the bed moved with his feet. "E?" he said quietly, squeezing Ian's fingers in his smaller hand. The whimper that escaped Ian's mouth sounded odd with the tube down his throat and Mickey moved to the edge of his own chair so he was in Ian's line of sight.

"Hey buddy," he whispered, a small smile on his face. "You feeling okay?" Ian kind wrinkled his brow, wincing when the action pulled at the screws keeping the halo on his head. Finally he blinked his eyes twice. "I guess that makes sense. I mean you have had the shit kicked out of you." Ian winced again and Mickey silently berated himself for being so tactless.

"I was real worried about you, you know that?" Mickey said, throwing a glance at the door behind him before carefully perching himself on the edge of Ian's bed. He watched as Ian braced himself, a look of relief passing over his face when the bed didn't move. "Did Lip tell you what's wrong?" Mickey asked.

Ian squeezed Mickey's hand and blinked twice. "No? Do…do you want to know?" the ex-con asked, his voice shaking. Ian paused for a moment before finally blinking once. Mickey bit his lip and nodded.

"Your fib, no your tibia is broken. Whichever one is your shine bone, I forget what Lip said. But both of your knee caps were shattered. The doctors went in and put plates and pins and all that kind of stuff to reconstruct them and that's why they have those metal frames fit on there to keep you from moving them. Your pelvis was broken, too, which is why there's a metal frame around your hips. Whoever did this broke four of your ribs, once that punctured your lungs. Your back and neck was broken pretty high up and they put a metal rod in your spine to fix it. That's what the halo's for. I guess that'll be on the longest. Your left hand was shattered and the right wrist was broken. There was some internal bleeding and what not. That and a bunch of bruises and stuff. You're a right mess, E."

Mickey watched as Ian's face crumbled, his green eyes filled with tears. In that moment Mickey knew that Ian had the same thought as him and Lip; West Point was out of the question. Ian would barely be able to pass the SAT and GPA scores. If Mickey remembered right, the only thing Ian had felt comfortable with was the fitness test and with joints now made of metal.

The dark haired boy sighed, his own face taking on a sympathetic look. He carefully placed his hand on the side of Ian's face, keeping his hands away from the bars connecting to the chest piece of the halo.

"Hey, hey, shh." Mickey whispered, his eyes flicking to the heart monitor next to Ian's bed that had started to speed up. "You're going to choke on that damn tube and then Nurse Pam with her damn blue hair is going to come and kick me out. Shh, calm down Ian. That's it, calm down." Mickey gently rubbed a finger down the side of Ian's face, his other hand on Ian's shoulder. Finally the red-head started to calm down, his face caked with tear tracks.

"You're going to get better, E," Mickey whispered. "You're a strong kid and you're a Gallagher. Better yet you're a red headed, Irish, Gallagher. You know what that means? That means you're stubborn as fuck which means you won't give up. We're just going to have to take it one day at a time."

Ian's right hand carefully reached out, the hard cast brushing against Mickey's side. Mickey caught his hand, holding his fingers gently. Ian's face looked strained, his eyes searching Mickey's face. The look was clear, he wanted to know what Mickey was really thinking. Mickey closed his eyes and sighed.

"You know it already, E. Don't make me say it. You know it already." Ian blinked once and Mickey gave him a small smile. Mickey carefully moved off the bed back into his chair, his hand still wrapped around Ian's fingers.

"I've been reading you the Hunger Games," Mickey said, biting his lip when Ian's eyes lit up. "Don't judge me, Lip said you've already read it. I only have a couple more chapters if you don't mind me keeping going?" Ian blinked once and Mickey carefully propped his legs on the bed again.

"_Traditionally, the Career tributes' strategy is to get hold of all the food early on and work from there_." Mickey read quietly, one hand still wrapped in Ian's. He flicked his eyes back and forth from Ian and the book, smiling slightly as he watched as Ian fought to stay awake. Finally, halfway through the chapter Ian fell asleep, his face finally looking at peace. Mickey rose to his feet and carefully kissed his forehead.

"I love you, Firecrotch," he whispered. Mickey slipped out of the room, finally wanting to get a good night's sleep.

* * *

><p>The next day Lip and Mickey were at Wal-Mart, picking up the most random shopping list Mickey had ever seen that Fiona had given them. He paused at the front of the store, nodding his head in hello to the Conkle twins as the approached him.<p>

"Alex, Brett," He nodded, bumping knuckles with Alex. "What are you two up to?"

"Nothing much," Alex said. "Someone stole our bats," he said, holding up one of the new ones he was holding. "Had to get some new ones for our baseball league."

"Huh, why would someone steal bats?" Lip asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"No idea, but they're gone." The four boys stayed silent for a moment.

"How's your brother, Lip?" Brett asked, and Alex elbowed him in the side.

"Ugh, he's getting better. He's pretty fucked up, though. It's going to be a while before he's even in an upright position let alone walking, but he should be off the ventilator in a few days." Alex exchanged a look with Brett before elbowing him again.

"Ugh, good. That's great. We got to get moving again. See you too later."

Mickey and Lip watched as they two twins walked away. Lip turned to Mickey, his brow furrowed.

"Was it just me, or are they extra weird today?" He asked the ex-con.

"Yeah, some thing is not right." The two boys stood again, watching as the twins left the store. "Let's get going Gallagher. I gotta spend some time with my Ginger." Lip snorted but nodded, pushing the cart down the aisle.

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><p><em><strong>AN:<strong>__ I hope you liked it. Please review. _


	5. Chapter 5

_I don't own Shameless._

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><p><strong>Just Don't Let Me Down: Chapter 5<strong>

Mickey had just sat down in the chair next to Ian's bed with a groan when an out of breathe nurse came in.

"Sorry, sorry! We're short staffed today and no one's been in to change Ian's bandages yet," the nurse, Melissa, said. She carried a small tub filled with bandages and creams and sat it down on the table next to Ian's bed.

"Do I need to leave?" Mickey said, moving so he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Ian, do you want him to leave?" Melissa said, and Ian blinked twice signaling no. "I guess you fine, Mickey. Actually, think you could help me a bit? We've only done this a couple times since he's been awake and he has a tendency to kick his feet." Mickey climbed to his feet at the nurse pulled the blankets off Ian's legs. She carefully pulled the cuffs that were keeping blood clots from forming off and then started removing the bandages. "Can you just gently hold his feet."

"I'm not sure that's going to help any," Mickey said as he moved to the edge of the bed. "His feet are ticklish." He froze, cursing himself for saying something so incredibly, incriminatingly gay. Both Ian and Melissa looked at him with a raised eyebrow and Mickey shrugged as he carefully put his hands on Ian's feet.

His mind wondered back to the first time he had discovered the boy's ticklish spot. It was shortly after their first time but before Kash had shot Mickey. Ian had been asleep in Mickey's bed, his face furrowed in worry. Mickey had never had a good family life, but he knew his looked like a fairytale compared to Ian's sometimes. He hadn't mean to do it, but his foot ran across the bottom of Ian's foot. A smirk and a small laugh escaped Ian as he burrowed more into Mickey's side. Mickey had grinned as he did it again, causing a slight squeal to escape Ian as he withered away. For once Ian looked and seemed like the child he was.

Mickey jumped again when Ian's toes twitched in his hand. He focused his eyes on the pale leg below him, his stomach lurching at the site. He tried to keep the grimace off his face as Ian searched his face for a reaction. A line of stitches stretched from right above his ankle up his shin. Ian's knee was swollen and covered with stitches and staples. The skin was read and black and blue. Melissa moved forward, carefully rubbing a piece of gauze soaked in alcohol over the wound.

Ian whimpered, his leg going tense and pulling against Mickey's gasp. Mickey tightened his grip on Ian's right foot, rubbing the side of his leg to help keep him calm.

"You're okay Ian," Melissa whispered as she rubbed a cream into his skin to keep the scaring from getting to bad. Ian stayed tense as she carefully wrapped a fresh bandage around his long limb before moving on to the next leg. "This one's not as bad," she said as she removed the old bandage. "It's only his knee on this leg."

Mickey nodded, switching feet. Ian had his eyes shut, his eyebrows knitted in pain. Mickey couldn't help himself; he ran a hesitant finger down the bottom of Ian's foot, smiling as his green eyes flew open and his leg twitched. Melissa smirked, shaking her head.

"Moving on," she said, blocking Mickey's view as she cleaned the stitching around Ian's pelvis. He wanted to tell her it was pointless; he'd seen it plenty of times. In fact, there was nothing he enjoyed more than having Ian inside him. He didn't say it, of course. It was gay enough knowing that his feet were ticklish; having seen the boy's dick would make it even worse.

Melissa stepped away, placing a sticky gauze pad across the stitches on Ian's stomach. "I need your help one more time Mickey." Mickey squeezed Ian's foot again before moving to stand next to Melissa. "I need to clean the incision on his back. I'm just going to need your help keeping him on his side." The nurse carefully rolled Ian up, his face turning red. "Just keep your hand on his shoulder. Yes, just like that." Mickey carefully kept his hand on Ian, rubbing his thumb over Ian's arm. A line of staples ran from the back of Ian's neck to midway down his back. Mickey bit his lip, his eyes locked on Ian's as the nurse cleaned his back, her gloved fingers working in the cream. Another sticky gauze pad was stuck across his back.

"Good Ian," she said quietly as she carefully rolled him back onto his back. She moved to the end of his bed and slipped the cuffs back on his legs. "This is just to keep blood clots from forming in his legs," the nurse explained to Mickey as she pressed the buttons to turn the machine on. "If you need anything be sure to call. Thanks for your help Mickey."

Mickey leaned down in front of Ian, his brown eyes locked on Ian's green, tear filled eyes. "You did good, Firecrotch," he whispered, letting his forehead gently rest against Ian's. He gently placed a kiss on Ian's forehead before sitting back in his chair, pulling out their book and continuing reading. Ian was asleep before he even turned the page.

* * *

><p>Lip and Fiona stood outside the L, both smoking and sucking down black coffee. Fiona sighed, brushing the hair out of her face. She locked eyes with Lip, blowing smoke out the side of her mouth.<p>

"Lip," she said quietly and he raised an eyebrow in response. "Who's Ian's boyfriend?" she asked innocently, inhaling another drag. Lip chocked on his coffee, furrowing his brow.

"Who says he has one?" Lip said, trying to keep cool as he looked away.

"The unsigned gifts? The fact that someone's been reading to him and coloring on his cast? The room smells like man when I get there in the morning and I know it doesn't smell like you. So who is he?" Lip chewed on his bottom lip, not meeting Fiona's eyes. He knew if she really thought about it she'd realize that the number of people allowed in Ian's room was limited. He figured she was just stressed.

"He's not out, Fiona," he said quietly. "It was like pulling teeth getting it out of Ian and I've been sworn to secrecy not to tell. And I won't, not until I've had the go ahead. But I promise you, he'd good to Ian. He puts on a tough act. It's the whole hiding in the closet thing. But he's still good to Ian. You've got to believe that."

Fiona sighed, dropping her cigarette to the ground and digging her heal into it. "I'm trusting you, Lip. C'mon, let's go." The two Gallagher's boarded the L, keeping quiet as they road. Fiona led the way to the elevator once they got to the hospital, not looking back at Lip.

"Fiona, Lip," Doctor Johnson said, shaking both of their hands in the hallway. "We're ready to take Ian off the ventilator today. I'm going to need you two to help me keep him calm, okay?" They followed the doctor into Ian's room where a nurse was already waiting.

"Okay Ian, we're going to take the tube out now," Doctor Johnson said, moving into Ian's line of site. "When I tell you to, take a deep breath in and then blow out as I pull the tube out. Do you understand?" Ian blinked once and the doctor nodded. He switched off the ventilator and carefully unhooked the machine from the tube in Ian's throat. Fiona carefully took Ian's in her own and Lip moved to stand at the edge of the bed. "Okay Ian, deep breath." Ian did as he was told, squeezing Fiona's hand as he did. "And blow." Ian blew out as the tube was pulled out of his throat. He coughed and choked as the end was pulled out of his mouth, his chest heaving.

"Good, very good, Ian." Doctor Johnson held a cup of water in front of Ian's mouth, sticking the straw in so he could drink.

"Fiona," Ian whispered, his voice hoarse. She smiled down at him, his eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry."

"Don't try to talk, Ian," Doctor Johnson said as he fit an oxygen tube in each of Ian's nostrils. "Let your throat rest some, okay?"

"It's okay, Ian," Fiona said, carefully brushing his hair out of his face while avoiding the halo. "You're going to be okay." Ian closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. "God you scared me, Ian. I was so worried about you. We were all so worried. You're going to be okay."

"I love you, Fiona," Ian whispered, his eyes wet.

"Oh Ian. I love you, sweetie. I love you." Fiona whispered her face crumbling. Lip stood by awkward at the edge of the bed, shifting from foot to foot.

"In case you were wondering, I love you, too, dude." He finally said, smiling when Ian laughed quietly.

"Love you, Lip," he whispered back, his eyes getting heavy.

"Just go to sleep, sweetie," Fiona whispered, a small smile on her face. Ian complied quickly.

* * *

><p>Mickey yawned, stumbling off the elevator that night. He'd worked both his and Ian's shift, finished his community service hours, and helped Mandy clean their house. He was exhausted and all he had been able to think about all day was seeing Ian. He signed the paper at the nurse's station, raising an eyebrow at the smirk Melissa, who had taken Pam's shift, gave him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he walked down the hallway.<p>

"Hey," Ian whispered, his voice hoarse. Mickey stopped short, his jaw dropping and his eyes wide.

"E," he whispered. Ian smiled.

"Mick," Ian whispered back. Mickey raced across the room, pausing to drop himself carefully onto the edge of the bed as he carefully took Ian's hand in his own.

"God it's so good to hear your voice," Mickey whispered, running his thumb along Ian's knuckles. Ian smiled slightly. "God who did this to you?" Ian swallowed thickly, licking his lips. "Wait, don't tell me."

"What?" Ian asked, furrowing his brows.

"If you tell me now, I can't promise that I won't kill them. Plan is to keep my ass out of jail while you're still in here and I can't guarantee that'll happen if I know who did this to you." Ian smirked slightly.

"Got it. I…I love you, Mickey," Ian whispered, closing his eyes in fear that Mickey would turn him down. Mickey gasped, trying to keep his breathing steady. He brought Ian's knuckle to his lips and kissed them.

"I…I guess I love you, too." Ian smiled slightly. "I love you, too, E."

* * *

><p>Tony lead Frank down the hallway of the hospital, Fiona following closely behind, still arguing.<p>

"This is ridiculous! Frank doesn't have Ian's best interest in mind. I should be the one sitting with him!"

"I know, Fiona," Tony said with a sigh. "Unfortunately it has to be a legal guardian, which is Frank. We'll be gentle with him, I promise. We'll be quick." Fiona rounded on Frank, her finger jabbing him in the chest.

"You make this worse for him, I will kill you," she whispered. Frank sighed but nodded.

"He's my son, Fiona. I know what I'm doing."

"Not by blood," she whispered back, turning and walking to the waiting room.

"Let's get this over with," Frank said, leading Tony and Detective Hall into Ian's room.

"I don't want him here," Ian whispered, his voice still hoarse and his eyes dead.

"God you are just like your sister," Tony said, running a hand over his head. "I'm sorry kid, but your legal guardian has to be here and I don't see Monica coming back anytime soon."

"We just have a few questions for you, Ian," Detective Hall said as Frank lowered himself into a chair next to Ian's bed. Tony took the other chair and Detective Hall remained standing.

"I…okay," Ian said, biting his lip.

"Ian, do you know who did this to you?" Tony asked, pulling his notebook out of his pocket.

"Ye-yes," Ian said, swallowing thickly. "The C-Conkle twins. Alex and Brett Conkle." Ian closed his eyes, tears already forming.

"I need. I'm sorry Ian, but I need you to describe what happened." Ian's eyes flew to Frank, silently begging him to step in. Frank looked back and forth between Ian and Tony.

"Is that necessary?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, Frank, we need the exact story if we're going to take this to court." Frank nodded and shrugged at Ian who let out a shuttering breath.

"I…I was at the little league dugouts. I was going to take a run; it's always cooler at 1 in the morning than the afternoon. They cornered me; there's only one way out of the dugouts and that's where they were standing. They had baseball bats. Brett hit me first. He…he uh hit me in the knee cap. Then Alex did the same to the other leg. They just kept hitting me. I…I," Ian took a shuttering breath, tears pouring out his eyes. He tried to rub them away, cursing when he got his cast soggy. "I begged them to stop but they wouldn't. I tried to fight back but it hurt so bad. I just tried to keep my head covered. That's all I really could do."

The room was quiet for a while, the only sound was Tony's pen scratching across the paper and Ian's sobs.

"Did they say why they did this?" Detective Hall asked and Ian took in a sharp breath.

"Please, I don't want him here," Ian begged, his eyes shooting to Frank again. "Please just make him leave."

"Ian, he has to be here. It's okay, just tell us," Tony said.

"Alex…Alex said he found something out about me," Ian said, closing his eyes.

"What did he find out?" Detective Hall asked, swallowing the sigh.

"That…That I'm gay," Ian said. The room was silent, the only sound was the heart monitor that was slowly speeding up. "He said he knew I was gay and that they were going to beat it out of me."

"I…I…Ian, I…" Frank stammered, reaching a hand out for Ian's arm. Ian flinched away.

"See Frank, I finally gave you a real reason to hate me. Don't just look like Monica now, do I? I turned out to be a fag just like her."

"Hey now," Frank said, grabbing Ian's arm. "Listen, Ian. I-"

"Don't touch me!" Ian screamed, his chest heaving and the heart monitor speeding up to a dangerous speed. "Don't let him touch me!"

Ian tried to thrash away, his movement limited by the metal still screwed into his body.

"Don't touch me," he moaned as a nurse grabbed his arm and stuck a needle into his IV. "No, don't touch me."

Frank watched on helplessly as the sedative quickly went to work, knocking Ian back into the blissfulness of unconsciousness.

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><p><em><strong>AN:<strong>__ I hope you liked it. Please review. _


	6. Chapter 6

_I don't own Shameless._

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><p><strong>Just Don't Let Me Down: Chapter 6<strong>

Mickey was laying in bed with a pillow over his head when his phone vibrated on the table next to him. He had opened the store that morning and was in desperate need of a nap before he went to the hospital. He sighed and rolled over, fumbling around for his phone.

**Ian had to be sedated. Fiona staying late. Don't come 'til 8. Long story. –Lip**

"What the fuck," Mickey mumbled as he closed out of the text and called Lip. "What the fuck kind of message is that? What do you mean he had to be sedated?" Mickey growled when Lip answered, clinching his jaw when Lip sighed.

"Tony and Detective Hall came to get his statement today and Frank had to be there for since he's his legal guardian or some shit. Ian ended up having to out himself in front of Frank and he freaked out. The nurse came in and had to sedate him. They said he'll probably be out until around seven. Fiona's just going to get changed for work at the hospital." Lip sounded so tired that Mickey almost didn't want to say anything else.

"What did Frank say to him?" he asked instead, his voice quiet.

"According to Tony, nothing. He said Frank just said Ian's name and tried to touch his arm and Ian started screaming at him. Started going on about how he finally gave Frank a real reason to hate him, not just 'cause he looked like Monica. I'm not really sure what else happened. I just know Frank took off as soon as Ian was out."

"Shit," Mickey whispered, sitting up in bed. "Okay, so I should be good to show up around 8?" he asked as he looked around for clothes.

"Yeah, Fiona has to be at work at 8:30 so she'll have to leave around 7:30. She just wants to make sure Ian's awake before she goes."

"Kay, got it. Thanks Lip." Mickey hung up the phone, a sigh trapped in his throat. It had already been a long day and it was just going to get longer.

* * *

><p>Mickey only had one guess as to where to find Frank. He doubted the drunk would be a Shelia's this early in the day so he headed straight to the Alibi Room. Sure enough, there sat Frank on a stool at a table in the back of the bar, staring down into his full cup. Mickey walked up to the bar, nodding at Kev.<p>

"How long has he been here?" He asked, nodding over to Frank. Kev sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"About two? I guess he came straight from the hospital. Been nursing that same glass ever sense. I don't think he's even drank any of it. Did something happen? Ian okay?" Kev asked, grabbing a mug.

"He'll be fine. I just want a coke, Kev," he said, shrugging when Kev raised an eyebrow at him. Mickey took the glass, ran a hand through his hair, and crossed the bar to where Frank was sitting.

"You gonna stare at that glass all night?" Mickey asked, dropping onto the bar stool across from Frank.

"Fuck off, Milkovich," Frank mumbled, his grip tightening on the full glass.

"What happened?" Mickey asked, dropping the attitude he normally gave Frank. Frank was silent for a long time, letting his head drop into his hands.

"Does he really think I hate him that much?" He asked, his voice cracking. Mickey sighed, taking a drink of his pop.

"When have you ever gave him the slightest indication that you didn't?" he asked back. "You have never kept any of your damn thoughts to yourself, Frank. Out of all six of your kids, everyone knows you've treated Ian the worst. I've only seen Monica once and I know he looks just like her. He's a good kid, Frank, but you've never given him a second glance. He just wanted you to notice him, to be proud of him and you can't pull your head out of a bottle of booze long enough to notice. And now he's gay just like his momma. It took him getting the shit kicked of him and almost dying for him to come out to you, Frank. What do you think that means?" Mickey turned to Frank, sighing when he saw the old man's eyes filled with tears.

"I didn't hate him," Frank mumbled. "I don't hate him. It was just so hard to look at him. All I wanted was his mother back and there he was, this spittin image of her staring back at me. You know he's not even mine? Technically he's my nephew. But God I wouldn't trade him or any of those kids for the world."

Mickey and Frank sat silently, Mickey drinking his drink and Frank crying silently. The father of six sniffed before meeting Mickey's eyes.

"I'm not stupid, Milkovich," he said, his voice low. "I've seen the way he looks at you; like the sun shines out of your ass. And you look back the same damn way. You're just the same. I know about you, too." Mickey's breath caught in his throat, his eyes locked on Frank's.

"You're son is the best thing that has ever happened to me," He whispered, looking around the bar to make sure no one was looking at him. "Ian is the only one in this piece of shit world that cares about me because we both my dad don't give a shit. And I will be damned if you walk in and ruin this perfect boy. You keep your thoughts to yourself, you got me?"

"West Point," Frank said quietly. Mickey froze, his eyes falling to the table. "I've seen the paper work and brochures at the house. If any of them have a shot of getting out, it's him."

"Not anymore," Mickey said quietly, pulling at his hair. "I looked it up," he said, licking his lips. "He wouldn't pass the medical examination. Not with all that damn metal in his body, the repaired hole in his lungs. He won't make it." Frank cursed slightly under his breath, pushing the glass away from him.

"Another Gallagher stuck in this piece of shit town." He shoved away from the table, stalking out of the bar. Mickey watched, hating that Frank might be right for once.

* * *

><p>Mickey was early getting to the hospital so he stopped at the coffee cart. The usual lady was behind the counter and smiled as she filled a large cup with coffee, leaving enough room for his large amount of sugar he needed.<p>

"This ones on the house, sugar," she said, passing the cup over the counter. "You look like you've had a rough day. You must have one lucky girl up there. You're here every night." Mickey sighed, opening a couple sugar packets.

"Not my girlfriend," he mumbled. "Just my best friend. He's…he's my best friend." The lady behind the counter gave him a small smile.

"I'm sorry dear. I'm sure he'll be okay." Mickey let out a shaky breath, giving the nice old lady a small smile as he nodded and walked away. He waited at the elevator, wincing at the bitter taste as he swallowed the hot coffee. He cursed under his breath and ducked around the corner as the elevator opened and Fiona's voice echoed out.

"Hey V, I'm getting a late start. I'm just leaving the hospital now… Yeah, he's awake. A little groggy and loopy but he's awake again…. No, I need the money, I'm still coming in… Yeah, just cover or me if you can. Thanks V, love you."

Mickey took another step back when Fiona turned around, his breath catching in his throat. Her brow furrowed and then she shook her head as she left. Mickey let out a shaky breath and his the button for the elevator again.

Jessica, a young nurse, sat behind the counter, working on charts. She gave Mickey a small smile as he signed the sheet on the counter, his coffee clinched in his hand.

"Just so you know, Mickey," she said. "He might be a bit loopy and out of it. I'm not sure if any one told you or not, but Ian had to be sedated earlier today and it was a pretty strong sedative. He's awake though."

"Uh, yeah, Lip let me know. Thanks, Jessica," Mickey said, taking another drink of his coffee as he turned and headed down to room 655. He knocked quietly on the doorframe to give Ian a heads up before he walked.

"Hey E," he said, dropping down into his normal chair beside Ian's bed. "How you feeling?"

"Groggy," Ian whispered back, clearing his throat. "My brains a bit foggy." Mickey smiled a bit, taking his hand

"That would be the sedative, I bet. What happened?" Ian let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes. His bit his lip as Mickey squeezed his hand, bringing him back to the here and now.

"I guess I over reacted. I was already freaking out having to talk about…what happened. I didn't want to tell Frank. God, the last thing I wanted to do was come out to Frank. But Tony kept saying he had to be there."

"How did you do it?" Mickey said, a small grin on his face. "Scared and meaningful, blurt it out, or did you tell him you were just like your mom?"

"Told him Alex said he knew I was gay and that he was going to beat it out of me," Ian said, his voice cracking and his eyes trained on the wall in front of him.

"Fuck. Fuck. I'm sorry Ian, I'm so sorry." Ian's eyes were filled with tears and Mickey kissed his knuckles. "I'm so sorry. I love you."

"I…I love you, too. I just can't get it out of me head. Them beating me, I mean."

"Shh, it's okay, Ian. Who was it? Just tell me."

"The Conkle's. Alex and Brett. I'm sure Tony and the cops already have them in custody. I guess I scratched Alex trying to get away and his DNA was under my nails so they can test it and prove it was them."

"Good, that's good. They better thank the fucking lord that I didn't get a hold of them first." Ian sucked in a shaky breath, closing his eyes again.

"Frank didn't even say anything. He just kept saying my name and trying to touch me and I panicked. It was stupid, I know. Put Frank Gallagher had never really needed a reason to hate me, has he?" Mickey squeezed his hand as Ian let out a deep breath, his eyes closed.

"I, uh, talked to your dad. Or uncle. Whatever you consider him to be, today. He…he doesn't hate you Ian." Ian let out a shaky laugh, tears falling from his eyes. "No really. He said it was just hard to look at you after Monica left. We all know you look like her, E. In fact, he's worried about you."

"Frank Gallagher has never worried about anyone but himself, Mick. Case in point, the six of us scamming everyone we come across to get money to survive while he drinks himself to death."

"Yeah, well he threatened me if I screw things up for you. He might not act like it, but he worries about you, Ian."

"I'll believe it when I see it. Can you just…can you just lay with me?" Ian asked, his voice quiet. He looked and sounded like a child.

"How, I don't want to hurt you?" Mickey asked, biting his lip. Ian's eyes filled up with tears, his face crumbling.

"I don't know. I just miss feeling you next to me. I miss you." Mickey sighed and perched on the side of Ian's bed, his hand resting on the side of Ian's stomach. He watched as the small boy's chest heaved, the straps on the halo chest piece straining.

"Calm down, E. I don't want them to knock you out again." Ian let out a shuttering breath, carefully covering Mickey's hand with his own casted one. "If I could lay with you without causing you anymore pain, you know I would. But this is as good as it gets until some of this metal comes out, okay? Just calm down." Ian's face was still crumbled and red but the tears were started to slow down.

"I love you, Mickey. Please don't leave me. God, please don't." his fingers scratched Mickey's hand, desperate for an anchor.

"I've got you," Mickey whispered, carefully pushing Ian's hair out of his face without pulling on the halo. "I'm not going anywhere. Just calm down." Mickey leaned forward and placed a small kiss on Ian's lip. "I love you, Firecrotch. I'm not going anywhere."

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><p><em><strong>AN:<strong>__ I hope you liked it. Please review. Also, thanks for all your kind words! They make writing that much better!_


	7. Chapter 7

_I don't own Shameles__s._

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><p><strong>Just Don't Let Me Down: Chapter 7<strong>

"Good, that's it Ian. Just try to push up against my hand with this foot. Good, very good." Dr. Johnson said, marking something in Ian's chart. "It looks like you're healing well. I'm going to have someone take you down to get some x-rays done later today, just to make sure. But as of right now we should be able to take these screws out of your left leg and get a different brace on there. How does that sound?"

"G-good," Ian stuttered, closing his eyes and taking a deep breathe. His head was pounding, not that the screws from the halo were helping with that much. His back hurt and so did his right knee and he was extremely uncomfortable laying in the same position all the time but he couldn't move by himself. Ian kept his eyes closed as Dr. Johnson took his blood pressure, focusing hard to keep his breathing steady.

"Good, good. I just need to check your lungs then I'll let you get some rest." Ian sighed, opening his mouth as Dr. Johnson placed a mouth piece in his mouth. "Okay, just blow into this for me, Ian. Good, good. Okay, you can stop now." Ian panted slightly as Dr. Johnson scribbled his results in his charts. "You're lung capacity isn't as good as it probably was, but that' expected with the trauma it went through." He reached behind Ian and turned the tab connected to the oxygen tubes in his nose. "That should heal up with some more rest, though. Is there anything I can get for you?"

Ian licked his lip, clearing his throat a couple times. His throat was still a little raw and it hurt to swallow. "I'm kind of thirsty," he said quietly. "And my head really hurts."

"Like a headache or from the halo?" Dr. Johnson asked, checking the incisions in Ian's skull.

"Both," Ian said, closing his eyes with a wince as Dr. Johnson pressed at the screws. "Mostly a headache though. And my knee. The uh, the right one."

"That's understandable," Dr. Johnson said with a sigh. "You're right leg took more damage." He moved to the side of the bed and pressed at the machine connected to Ian's IV. "This should help. If not let your nurse know. Jessica's on duty now, she'll let me know if you need something else. Get some rest, Ian."

Ian sighed, wishing he could move around a little. He was never one to sleep on his back. But now he had no choice until his back healed up a bit and he was extremely uncomfortable. And he was bored. Fiona normally didn't come until after noon and Mickey never came until after five unless Mandy came. The rooms in the ICU didn't have televisions, and it wasn't like he could hold up a book to read.

To be honest, Ian was afraid to go to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Alex and Brett cornering him in the corner of that dugout, Brett swinging that bat that would probably leave him as a fucking cripple the rest of his life. When he closed his eyes, Ian could hear Alex's voice in his ear saying I know you're a fag. I know you're fag and I'm going to beat it out of you. He stayed awake as long as he could. He stayed awake until his eyelids were drooping and the pain became too much.

His eyes trailed to the clock, sighing with relief when he saw it was almost noon. Fiona should be there soon and maybe he wouldn't be so bored. Ian closed his eyes, hoping he could get a little sleep before his nightmares woke him up.

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><p>Fiona stretched, her back popping as she lowered herself into a chair next to Ian's bed. As if raising five kids as her own wasn't hard enough, these daily visits to the hospital were starting to take their toll on her. She normally didn't use make up unless she was going on a date, but lately she had taken to putting more on, trying to hide the dark bags under her eyes. She was looking for extra shifts to pick up during the day. She realized that working more meant she would have less time with Ian, but if they ever planned on paying off the hospital bills she was going to have to work more.<p>

She carefully stretched on long leg out onto Ian's bed, the other one tucked below her. She pulled out her list of temp jobs available, looking for the ones that she could turn into the agency. She jumped when Ian cleared his throat.

"Fi," he whispered, squinting at his sister.

"Hey bub," she whispered back, taking his hand. "How you feeling?"

"I wish everyone would stop asking me that," he whispered back, yawning. "I feel like shit, but if I can't say that every time someone asks."

"Ha, okay. I'll stop asking, how's that sound?" Fiona answered with a small smile on her face.

"Fiona, I'm bored," Ian said, staring ahead of him.

"Yeah? What do you want to do? It's limited to what you can do from this bed, kid." Ian sighed, closing his eyes.

"I don't know. There's no TV in here 'cause I'm supposed to be sleeping. I can't tilt my neck or hold a book up with my hands like this. I don't know what else there is. I'm just tired of laying here and sleeping all the time." Fiona sighed, pulling herself out of the chair and perching on the side of the bed.

"You never get it easy, do you kid?" she whispered, carefully running a hand through Ian's hair. Ian flinched, sucking a quick breath in.

"Sorry," he said, clearing his throat as Fiona looked at him with a worried look. "My head just hurts. They've already given me something for it, though."

Fiona sighed, running a hand through her own hair. "How bout I get you some of those books on tape? I think Kev has some; you know the whole him not being able to read thing. It might be something a little more interesting than anything Veronica and I have."

"I would even listen to Twilight at this point." Ian paused, furrowing his brow. "Okay, maybe not. Anything but Twilight. Twilight fucking sucks." Fiona snorted, closing her eyes as she shook her head.

"True that. I'll find you something. That boyfriend of yours not keeping you entertained?" She asked nonchalantly. Ian gasped, choking as his eyes went wide.

"What?" he asked, his voice cracking. "What boyfriend?" Fiona sighed, flattening her hand on the chest piece of his halo, her fingers playing with the straps.

"I'm not stupid, Ian. I know there's someone. And I know Lip knows, too. But he won't tell me."

"First time he's kept his mouth shut in years," Ian mumbled, closing his eyes and sighing. "There is someone. I…I just can't tell you."

"Ian, sweetie, you can trust me. I swear to you, you can trust me."

"I do trust you, Fiona," Ian whispered. "But he's not out. I can't out him. Not until he's ready."

"Okay," Fiona said, squeezing his hand. "He's good to you though, right? He treats you good, right?"

"He really does, Fiona. He's been here a lot. He…I think he really loves me." Ian licked his lips, adverting his eyes.

"Good," Fiona said, a small smile on her face. "Good. It's the least you deserve." Fiona climbed back into her chair, keeping her posture tall so she could meet Ian's line of site.

"I'm going to start taking on some more shifts through the temp agency, bub," Fiona said quietly, letting her eyes drop. "So I might not be able to get here every day. Paying for these bills is going to be hell, especially if we plan on having any kind of squirrel fund this winter."

"I'm sorry, Fiona," Ian whispered, letting his own eyes drop to his hands. "I forgot about the hospital bills…"

"Hey, don't you be sorry!" she said in a fierce whisper. "There's nothing you could have done about this. We'll figure this out, even if I have to physically shake the money out of Frank. I just didn't want you to think I'd abandoned you. I'll be here whenever I can, okay. But Lip, V, Kev, and Mandy should all still be here. And that mysterious boyfriend of yours, okay?"

"I'll be fine, Fiona," Ian whispered. "Don't worry about me." Fiona's eyes filled with tears, squeezing Ian's hand.

"How am I not supposed to worry about you? God, look at you, Ian. How am I not supposed to worry about you?" Ian's eyes filled with tears. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Fiona ducked her head, letting her forehead.

"I'm sorry, Fiona. I'm so, so sorry," Ian cried, squeezing his eyes shut. Fiona sighed, rubbing the top of Ian's arm.

"It's okay. You're going to be okay. Shh, I love you, Ian. You're going to be okay."

Ian tried to fight it. He hated sleep and he didn't want to lose what little time he'd have with Fiona. But he was just so emotionally drained he couldn't stop himself from falling asleep, Fiona gently rubbing his arm.

* * *

><p>Mickey had decided that seeing Ian was the best part of his day lately. Which was depressing really if you thought about it. Mickey hated hospitals. He always had, even before he had gotten shot. It made him think too much about his mother. They made him think about how she died, leaving him, his big brothers and Mandy alone with a drunk for a dad. She'd had breast cancer, died when she was 36. Mickey wasn't sure if he missed her. He wasn't sure if he hated her either.<p>

Mickey's posture straightened a little as he signed in at the nurses desk and walked down the hallway to room 655. He almost dropped to the ground, however, when he walked into find the single room empty.

"Fuck," he whispered, his wide eyes locked on the empty bed and rumpled sheets. "Fuck, Ian." He said, his eyes filling with tears.

"Hey Mick!" he heard from behind him, his heart stopping in his chest.

"Fuck," he said again, a sigh stuck in his throat. Ian sat perched on a gurney being pushed by an orderly and a nurse. "Where the hell were you?"

"Sorry, Mickey," the nurse, Jessica, said with a smile. "Pam was supposed to tell you we took Ian down for x-rays when you checked in but I guess she was too into her book to notice. Didn't mean to scare you." He bit his lip as Jessica and the orderly Josh pushed Ian back into his room. "Mind staying out here while we get him back into bed?" Jessica asked with a wink. Mickey sighed, knowing that most of the nurses saw right through his tough exterior.

A few minutes later Josh left, pushing the gurney down the hall. He nodded at Mickey as he walked past and Mickey took that as a signal to go back inside. Jessica was gently adjusting Ian on the bed, the red head's eye closed in pain.

"I know, sweetie," Jessica said quietly as she hooked all of his tubes and machines back up. "We'll get you nice and drugged up and you'll feel better." Ian laughed, trying to suppress the grimace that overtook him.

"Thanks Jess," he said, his voice strained. "I'll be fine." She smiled, patting his foot gently as she left the room.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again, you got it?" Ian smiled, laughing slightly. "I mean it, Firecrotch. Don't scare me like that."

"I'm sorry," Ian mumbled, a grin still ghosting his face. "Was nice to see something other than this room for once. " Mickey smiled at him slightly. They had just settled in to a quiet silence when Dr. Johnson came back, stack of Ian's x-ray's in his hands.

"Boys," he said with a nod as he stuck the x-rays onto the screen and flipped the light on. "I was right, your left legs healing well. Your stitches come out on Friday and we'll be able to take this metal off your left leg. Your right leg still has a little ways to go. Your spine's healing well, but that takes time for those muscles to rebuild their strength so the halo has to stay on. Your pelvis is healing well. As long as your healing process continues like that, we should be able to get this metal out of you in a week or two. The only think I'm worried about is that hand of yours." Unconsciously, Ian brought his broken hand closer to his chest. "As you know, your hand was shattered in the attack. We had to put pins in it to reconstruct it when you came in, but it seems that some of the pins have shifted. I'm afraid we're going to have to operate on it again."

Mickey cursed under his breath as Ian's eyes dropped back down to his chest. Ian licked his lips and then looked back up.

"When?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"Next week. We've got you scheduled on Tuesday. After that we should be able to move you out of the ICU and to a regular floor. How's that sound?" Ian sighed, wishing he could just nod his head so he didn't have to talk again.

"Good," he whispered.

"Good, now you two enjoy yourself. Let the nurses know if you need anything. Mickey watched as the doctor left, jumping off the bed and perching on the side of the bed as soon as he was gone.

"Hey, hey, look at me," he whispered, putting his hands on either side of Ian's face. "you'll be okay."

"We can't afford this," Ian whispered, closing his eyes. Fat tear drops fell down, soaking Mickey's hands. "We can't afford these bills in the first place, let alone another surgery."

"Ian, don't worry about that. We'll figure something out. God, I'll give your sister all my wages at the store if I have to. You just don't worry about that and focus on getting better, okay? Just focus on you."

"I'm sorry," Ian whispered, that seeming to be his favorite sentence lately. "I'm sorry Mickey."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Ian Gallagher. You're going to be okay." They stayed quiet, Ian sniffling.

"Fiona's asking questions," Ian said quietly.

"About what? About what happened?" Mickey asked, his brow raised in question.

"No, about you. Well not your per say. More about who's my boyfriend and why won't I tell her. I don't like lying to her Mick. Not anymore." Mickey bit the inside of his cheek, sighing.

"Just give me a little more time, okay?" he said, his voice low. He refused to meet Ian's eyes. "I just need a little more time."

"I'm not going to force you to come out, Mickey. I'm pretty sure I'm a good reason why you shouldn't." Mickey nodded, his body rocking back and forth.

"I know I don't say it a lot. And I know that I don't act like it. And I know I act like a fucking douche bag to you half the time. But I love you. I love you more than I'd ever loved anything before, Ian. Just don't give up on me yet." Mickey bit his lip, looking away from Ian's deep green eyes.

"I won't," Ian whispered, reaching out for his hand. "Just don't give up on me."

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><p><em><strong>AN:<strong>__ I hope you liked it. Please review! Thanks so much for all your support!_


	8. Chapter 8

_I don't own Shameless._

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><p><strong>Just Don't Let Me Down: Chapter 8<strong>

Mickey stood behind the counter, filling out the application for Malcolm X with shaky hands. His eyes constantly glanced up at the clock above the freezers. Ian had gone into surgery an hour previously and the ex-con was dying for some kind of news. The donation bucket with Ian's picture on it was almost filled to the brim. Mickey knew even if it was filled another three times it wouldn't be enough to pay off the bills. He silently cursed Frank for never being able to keep a job that would supply his kids with the kind of insurance they needed. His mind flew back to the number of times that Ian had worked through his sickness. "The clinics for emergencies," he would rattle off, his voice hoarse and a horrible cough following him around for days.

Mickey had taken up a few odd jobs in the neighborhood; fixing broken fences and mailboxes, cleaning up after old man Johnson, even walking Mrs. Wellington's dog. Normally Mickey would have been money hungry. But this time, every penny he made was stowed away in a shoebox under his bed until he could give it to Fiona.

Mickey sighed, putting the Malcolm X application back in his back and pulling the local newspaper in front of him. He paused for a moment on the front page story of the Conkle twins, letting out a shaky breath before flipping the page. He was just flipping open to the classifieds when the bell above the door rang. Mickey ran a hand over his face, looking up with a sigh as Frank Gallagher walked through the door.

"What do you want, Frank?" he said tiredly, his eyes flipping to the clock again.

"Why do you always assume I want something?" Frank asked back, pulling an envelope out of his back pocket as he shuffled towards the front counter.

"Let's just call it history," Mickey answered, shutting the newspaper. Frank sighed, smacking the envelope down on the counter. "What's this?"

"I wasn't always such a waste of space," Frank said quietly, refusing to meet Mickey's eyes. "I was able to sign the kids up for government insurance before I started…before I started drinking. You only had to fill the forms out once and then it kept going until they turn 18. So I get cards for Lip on down each year…" Mickey felt a conflict of feelings as Frank trailed off.

"You're meaning to tell me you've had insurance for those kids of yours for the past two and a half years and you never said anything about it? You didn't think that was important? I mean the spent months trying to pay off those hospital bills when fucking Carl broke his arm and you never said anything?"

"Save the speech, Milkovich," Frank said. "I'm a piece of shit father and I always have been. But I'm making this right for once. Get the card Lip. Or take it the fucking hospital yourself if you have to. Or do you want to spend the rest of your life paying for you fucking boyfriend?" Frank shook his head, leaving the store without another glance.

* * *

><p>Mickey found Lip in the Ice Cream truck in the park after work. The oldest Gallagher sun lifted his head in hello as he pushed the seat forward so Mickey could climb in the truck.<p>

"Fiona just called me," Lip said, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth. "He's out of surgery; came through with flying colors. He's in recovery now. They should take him back to his room in an hour or two."

"Good," Mickey said quietly, lighting his own cigarette as a young kid came up to the side of the truck.

"What did I say, Pat?" Lip said with a sigh, stooping at the window. "Not until you're fourteen. Get out of here." The kid flipped Lip off, running away from the truck.

"I'm telling you, you're missing all kinds of customers with this age restrictions," Mickey said, pulling a beer out of the chest.

"Yeah, well, keeps Kev's conscious clean. He already helped fuck up all us Gallagher's; might as well try to save the neighborhood kids."

The two boys stayed silent, both smoking like it was their last resort. Finally Mickey pulled Frank's envelope out of his back pocket.

"You know how you and E always say that out of Frank and Monica, Frank was always the better parent?" Mickey said, flicking at his nose with his thumb.

"Ha, yeah. I guess you can say that," Lip said, gulping his beer.

"Well, I think he's proving to be the better parent again," Mickey said, handing over the envelope. Lip furrowed his brow, reading the letter and looking at the cards in his hands.

"Holy shit," Lip said, running a hand through his hair. "Holy shit we've had insurance this whole time."

"Yup," Mickey said, watching Lip's reaction. "Apparently Frank's really worried that Ian hates him. Funny, right? I mean, when has Frank Gallagher ever cared what you kids felt. But after Ian was forced out we had a talk. For some reason it's important to him that Ian doesn't hate him. Hence him turning over the insurance cards, I guess."

"Thank fucking God," Lip said with a relieved sigh. "This whole working our asses off thing isn't fun. You heading to the hospital now?"

"Fiona there?" Mickey asked, throwing his cigarette out the window.

"Until five like normal. She wanted to stay with him tonight but they're short staffed at the bar. She'll get overtime tonight, too."

"Then I'll be there at 5:30 like normal," Mickey said, an edge to his voice. Lip sighed, nodding.

"You can trust Fiona, dude," Lip whispered. "She's not going to say anything. If Ian can confide in her then you can trust her, too."

"I'm not ready," Mickey said through clenched teeth. "Not yet." Lip rolled his eyes, pushing the driver's seat forward so Mickey could leave.

"We can help you get through this, Mick," Lip called out. "Already been through it once with Ian; wouldn't be any different with you. " Mickey paused, licking his lip at the unspoken meaning to Lip's words. 'You're like a brother to me, too.' He nodded to Lip, holding his head high as he cut across the park.

* * *

><p>Ian was sleeping when Mickey slipped into his room. For once the pale boy's face wasn't pulled in a grimace of pain and he looked peaceful. His left hand was wrapped thickly in new bandages and propped up on a pillow next to him. He let out a quiet sigh, his eyelids fluttering. Mickey let out a sigh, sitting down next to the boy. Mickey took a deep breath before speaking.<p>

"God, you're beautiful," he mumbled, biting his lip and looking away. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and nine times out of ten I'm too much of a fucking pussy to tell you. I don't know what I'd ever do without you in my life. You're the only one who cares about me. God, you care more than my own fucking family. And just the thought of losing you makes me want to go fucking insane. Just looking at you this beat up hurts everything. I know this is just beginning, but you can't give up, okay?" Mickey whispered, carefully taking Ian's right hand. "You can't give up because I can't do this without you. I can't live; I can't be this person without you, okay?"

Ian whimpered in his sleep and Mickey let out a low sigh, sitting back in his chair. He bit his lip as he pulled the Malcolm X application back out of his bag. He stared at the essay section, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he thought it over. 'What has had the greatest impact on shaping your life?' Mickey looked up, wondering how he could fit into 500 words or less how Ian Gallagher and the fear of hate crimes had made him into this terrified mess of a boy who wanted nothing more than to make things right.

"Fuck," he whispered, shaking his head and putting the application back in his bag. He let his head fall back, shutting his eyes and wishing for sleep. He was just starting to drift off when Ian woke up.

"Mickey?" he whispered, his voice taking on the hoarse tone again. Mickey jumped, sitting at the edge of his seat.

"Hey kid," he said back, a small smile on his face. "How you feeling?"

"Sore," Ian said, squinting at Mickey. He carefully held up his hand and looked at it like it wasn't attached to his body. "Is it all better now?"

"Well I personally haven't talked to your doctor," Mickey said, smothering the grin that threatened to show on his face. "But I'm assuming if it wasn't at least one sibling of yours would have told me by now. You in much pain? I can call Melissa; I'm sure she'll drug you up as much as you want. She's got a soft spot for ginger's; her boyfriend's one." Mickey couldn't stop the grin that reached his face when Ian smiled at him.

"I feel fine. Just sore. I don't need any more drugs, Mickey." Mickey nodded and the two boys stayed silent for a while. Finally Ian broke the silence.

"So what's it like out in the real world right now?" He asked, swallowing thickly as he closed his eyes. Mickey stepped forward, grabbing the cup of water with the straw.

"Drink," he said, smiling when Ian obliged. "Well, you've made the front page of the paper. Not you by name, but a 'neighborhood gay teen was attacked.' But we're not kidding any one, E. Everyone in the freaking neighborhood knows now. And I'm sorry."

Ian was quiet for a while before letting out a shuttering breath. "Well I was going to have to come out sometime. I wasn't ready and I didn't plan on being dragged out of the closet, but I guess it was just my time."

"I'm still sorry," Mickey said quietly. "Um, anyway. They arrested the twins. They'll be arraigned this week. The trial should start soon after. I'm sure Tony will be back to talk to you about it."

"I'm going to have to testify, aren't I?" Ian asked, his voice sounding dead.

"Probably," Mickey said, a rare sympathetic tone to his voice. "I'm sure Tony will know more about it." They were quiet for a moment before Mickey took another deep breath.

"Turns out your dad isn't as big as a piece of shit as we all thought. He had all you kids signed up for Medicaid before he turned into a fucking drunk. You, Debbie, Carl and Liam are still signed up. Lip will turn 18 this year so his card will expire soon. But since you're covered, we aren't going to have to pay as much."

"How did you find this out?" Ian asked, pointing at the glass of water with his right hand again. Mickey stood, putting the straw in his boyfriends mouth.

"Old Frankie brought the cards to me. Seems that he's really concerned that you hate him. Weird, isn't it? I mean I said it to Lip and I'll say it to you; When has Frank Gallagher ever cared about his kids. But he brought them to me today and the cards legit. Billings already ran it through. Cut the hospital bills down by thousands. Ole' Frankie finally pulled through."

The two boys stayed silent again. Mickey stared a head, making a decision in his mind. He looked away, letting out a shaking breath before turning back to Ian.

"I think…I think I'm going to tell Mandy. About us, I mean. I'm going to tell her about me, and what we've been doing. If…If that's okay with you?" Ian's eyebrows raised high. He cursed under his breath when the gesture pulled at the screws from the halo.

"Are…are you sure?" Ian asked, his voice cracking. "I mean, like I said, I'm enough of a reason as to why you should stay in the closet."

"Well, I mean, you've told two of your five siblings that you're gay. I can at least tell one of my four."

"Um, actually I've told three," Ian said quietly, looking down.

"Who else, Debbie?" Mickey said, furrowing his brow.

"Liam," Ian said, lifting an eyebrow in question when Mickey laughed. "And I told him about us, too."

"E, I don't think telling the two year old who can't talk counts as telling a sibling. But still, I think I'm going to tell Mandy. I mean she already knows you're gay and that you've been screwing someone else since Kash skipped town. I just have to tell her that that guy you've been screwing is me. However, I might come up with a better way to say that than this." Ian let out a small chuckle, a tired smile on his face.

"Good. I don't like lying to Mandy. And I'm proud of you. I love you, Mickey." Ian whispered, his speech starting to slur as he fell asleep.

"Seriously?" Mickey said, letting out a little sigh. "Kinda needed your help in planning what to do, Firecrotch." Mickey sighed when Ian didn't wake up. "Fine, I guess I love you, too."

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><p><em><strong>AN<strong>__: I hope you liked it. Please review. Thanks for all the support!_


	9. Chapter 9

_I don't own Shameless._

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><p><strong>Just Don't Let Me Down: Chapter 9<strong>

It was a month and a half after the attack had happened, and Dr. Johnson finally decided that Ian was stable enough to be moved off the ICU. Mickey stood back with Lip, holding a bag of various things Fiona repeatedly left in Ian's room. They watched as the nurses carefully hung Ian's IV bag to a pole attached to the bed and unhooked him from the machines he had been on. The gates on his bed were put into place and an orderly steeped up and began pushing Ian's bed to the elevator.

"Hey Mick?" Lip said quietly as they followed closely behind. Mickey raised an eyebrow in question before Lip continued. "Don't let me forget to tell Fiona they moved him. That might not go over well."

"I'm surprised she's not here," Mickey commented, rubbing at his eye.

"She got an office job. Like a real job," Lip said with a grin, the pride oozing out of him. "It's just part time right now, but it could be full time pretty soon."

"Shit, that's great," Mickey said with a smile. It was about time something good happened to the Gallagher's. Lip and Mickey piled into the elevator with Ian and the orderly. Mickey could feel Ian's eyes on him and he gave him a small smile.

"Welcome to your new room, kid," Jeff the orderly said as the new nurses quickly hooked Ian's IV back up and stuck the oxygen tubes back in his nose. Ian made a face, scrunching his nose in displeasure.

"Just a bit longer with those, sweetie," the nurse, Jennifer, said with a smile. "Do you need anything?" she asked after taking his vitals and marking his chart.

"No thanks, I'm okay," Ian said quietly. Jennifer smiled and nodded as she left.

"Now Debs and Carl can come see you!" Lip said was a smiled as he propped his feet up on the edge of Ian's bed.

"That'd be nice," Ian said, his voice quiet. "I miss Debbie."

"She misses you, too, dude. You're all she can talk about." Mickey was currently hanging the pictures Debbie had sent Ian around the room and smiled. He looked back at Ian who's eyes were locked on his hands.

"What's up with you, E?" He asked, his brow furrowed in worry. "I figured you'd be ecstatic about getting out of the ICU?"

"I…I am. It's just that Tony's supposed to come and talk to me about the trial later…"

Lip and Mickey met each other's eyes, their looks clearly stating they had no idea about this.

"Were you going to tell someone?" Lip asked, taking his feet off the bed and sitting up. Ian bit his lip, not looking up.

"I can handle it myself," he mumbled. "He said I didn't have to have a parent or anything here this time."

"So you were going to just do this by yourself because they aren't requiring you to have Frank here? Idiot," Mickey said, shaking his head. "I'll stay."

"Mickey…" Ian said quietly but Mickey stood his ground.

"I said, I'm staying, Ian. Your brother has to work, and so does Fiona. I'm sure Frank is passed out drunk in some ally somewhere, not that you'd want him here. And your mother is a cunt and no one knows where she is. So, I'm staying." Lip stood back, a surprised look on his face. Finally he smiled and turned to Ian.

"You heard him. He's staying. Now, I've a got a tutoring session. I'll see you tomorrow. Be good."

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><p>Ian sighed as Lip left, letting his eyes fall shut. Dr. Johnson had taken the metal off of both of his knees finally and both were fitted with thick black braces, locked at a certain point to keep him from bending too much before they were ready. His right hand, already out of the cast, played idly with the straps of the braces. His chest rose and fell steadily.<p>

"What are you thinking about?" Mickey asked quietly, perching on the edge of the bed.

"How much I don't want to testify," Ian whispered back, still not opening his eyes. He looked so tired, the month of healing not being quite enough. His left hand was still enclosed in a hard cast, letting the shattered bones heal in peace. Mickey had taken to drawling on the plaster; nonsense doodles covered the whole thing. The metal still enclosed his hips, but Dr. Johnson swore they would come off next week. The halo would still be on for at least another two months and the metal bars made him look smaller and paler.

"I know," Mickey said, pulling Ian's hands away from the brace straps. "But I think you'll feel better when you do. At least you know those jackasses will be punished for this." Ian bit his lip, letting out a shaking breath.

"Yeah, but when I testify, I'll be outing myself to God knows how many people. And what about when they get out? They'll just come after me again."

"Not if I have anything to do about it," Mickey mumbled, squeezing Ian's hand tightly. "And the people who care about you already know, Ian. And everyone else can just go fuck themselves if they have a problem. I'm not going to let anything else happen to you; I promise."

"Says the boy who still hasn't came out to his sister after three weeks of promising," Ian mumbled, closing his eyes again. He didn't know why he was being so snippy with Mickey. He was just in a mood and didn't seem to be able to stop. Mickey flinched at his words and Ian sighed. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine. I know I promised and I'm working on it. I just have to find the right time. I'll do it though, Ian. I promise." Ian bit his lip, letting out a shaky breath. He squeezed Mickey's hand,

"I know. I trust you."

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><p>Mickey had started to drift off when Tony came in, a folder in his hand. He jumped when Ian threw the pen he had been coloring with at Mickey's face, cracking him in the forehead.<p>

"What the fuck?" Mickey mumbled, squinting as he sat.

"Wake up," Ian said simply, his face blank. "Tony's here." Mickey sighed, sitting up in the chair and moving closer next to Ian. Tony paused, his nose wrinkled in question.

"Are you two…?" He trailed off, looking back and forth between the secret lovers. Mickey froze, shifting the chair back to where it was.

"Drop it," Ian said, his voice sharp. Tony sighed, nodding as he dropped down into the other chair.

"So, about the trial," Tony said, flipping the file open on his lap. "The district attorney is going to call you to the stand. She's a young girl who's big on gay rights, so don't expect her to go hard on you. The Conkle's are as poor as the rest of us so they've just got a court appointed lawyer. I highly doubt he'll be too rough, either. You'll have to swear to tell truth. Then they'll probably ask you to tell what happened that night."

Ian bit his lip, licking his teeth before letting out a shaky breath. "How…how much detail do I have to go into?" he asked, not meeting Mickey's eyes.

"I can't say for sure. Just go as into detail as you can, Ian, and if that's not enough they attorney's will ask you to go into more detail. The district attorney already has the copies of all the pictures that were taken of you when you were brought into the ER and they have the records of all your injuries. You also had their DNA under your nails, and the jury will be able to see how beat up you really are."

"When…When is the trial?" Ian asked quietly, wishing he could take Mickey's hand without making the older boy uncomfortable.

"In two weeks," Tony said, shutting the folder. "The Conkle's are being held without bail, so you don't have to worry about them trying to scare you into not testifying. I'll be in touch with your doctors and work out a way to have you transferred to the court house the day of the hearing since you aren't back on your feet yet. Since you're still in the hospital, they'll make sure you testify on the first day and won't have to come back each day. Do you have any other questions?"

Ian swallowed thickly, licking his lips. "What do I wear?" Mickey snorted and Tony gave him a small smile.

"I'll have Fi bring you something. Just look presentable." Tony climbed to his feet, nodding at Ian and Mickey. "I've got to get back to the station. Have a good day, boys."

"I don't want to do this," Ian whispered when Tony shut the door behind himself. "I don't think I can do it."

"Yes you can, E," Mickey said, standing up to perch on the edge of the bed again. "I know you can because you're a strong, stubborn Gallagher and you're going to pull through this just like you've done with every other shitty situation you've been thrown into, okay?" Ian closed his eyes, tears filling behind his eyelids. Mickey sighed, moving to stand above Ian slightly.

"And I'm going to be right there with you, Ian. Every step of the way." Ian let out a shuttering breath as Mickey gently placed a kiss on his chapped lips. "Every freaking step of the way."

* * *

><p>Mickey idly flicked the ashes off his cigarette, his teeth digging into his lower lip. His dad continued to bang around the kitchen, grumbling under his breath. Mickey watched as Mandy rolled her eyes, her attention focused on the game in front of her. Finally their father entered the room, pulling a shirt on over his head.<p>

"I'm going out," he called as he opened the front door. "Don't wait up." Mickey flinched as the door slammed shut. He was quiet for a few moments, listening to make sure his brothers were gone.

"Hey Mandy?" He said quietly.

"What?" she snapped back, tilting the controller as she played.

"Can we talk?" Mickey asked, cursing at how weak he sounded. "It's…it's important."

Mandy furrowed her brow in worry as she paused her game and dropped the controller on the couch. "What up?" she asked, turning to meet Mickey's eyes.

"You know about Ian, right?" he asked, his voice quiet. "I mean, you aren't actually dating him for real."

"Yeah, I know about him. I mean, he told me right after I tried to set you on him. I've known for over a year now. Why?" She asked, her brow still furrowed.

"And you know how he's been sleep with someone who's not Kash, right?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," Mandy answered. "He won't tell me who it is, though. He just keeps saying the dudes on the down low. What does this have to do with anything?"

"I…you have to promise to not freak out on me, okay? And you have to promise not to tell anyone."

"Mickey what's going on?" Mandy asked, her hand shaking as she touched his arm. "Is everything okay?"

"Promise me, Mandy," Mickey growled, his teeth clenched.

"Okay, I promise. I promise. Now what's going on?"

"The guy that Ian's been fucking…That guy's me." Mandy was quiet, her eyes wide.

"You mean…You mean you're gay?" Mandy said after a long pause.

"I…I…yeah. Yeah, I guess I am." Mickey whispered back, looking at his hands in his lap.

"How long?" Mandy asked.

"How long I've known or how long I've been fucking Ian?" He said, an edge to his voice.

"Both." Many answered simply.

"I've known since I was 15? Remember Josh Jackson that used to live on Sixth St?" Mandy nodded with wide eyes. "He was my first. How long I've been with Ian? Shortly after you started to pretend to date him. First time was when he came to get Kash's gun back. I mean, dad was in the other room and it was just this crazy fucking rush."

"Is that why Kash shot you?" Mandy asked, her eyes wide.

"Remember that week that Ian's cunt of a mom came back last winter?" Mandy nodded, her face turning angry.

"That was the week Ian found out he wasn't Frank's." Mandy answered.

"Ian showed up here freaking out because Monica was back," Mickey said, lighting another cigarette. "I met him at the store later and Kash walked in on his fucking in the cooler. And so maybe I taunted him a little and that's why he shot me. But we've been…I don't know, together? since then. He came and saw me a couple times when I was in juvie. I was with him the night he was…I was with him the night he was attacked. I had just left him."

"Holy shit," Mandy whispered, her eyes wide.

"So are you mad at me?" Mickey asked, still not meeting her eyes. "Or do you hate me?"

"No…No I don't hate you, Mick. This isn't something you could help. I know it's not. And I'm glad it's you with Ian, not some married perv. I just want you to be happy. I want you both to be happy."

"Please don't tell anyone, Mandy," Mickey said quietly. "Dad would kill me. You know he would kill me. And after what happened with Ian I don't want things to get worse. I just didn't want to lie to you anymore. It's not fair that Lip knows and you didn't."

"I know that Lip was hiding something," Mandy said with a smirk. "I'm just glad you can trust me. And someday you two will get out of this piece of shit town. We've just got to get Ian better first." With that Mandy leaned forward and took the cigarette out of Mickey's hand and took a puff herself. Mickey grinned. Why he didn't trust Mandy sooner, he'd never know.

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><p><em><strong>AN:<strong>__ I hope you liked it. Please review!_


	10. Chapter 10

**I don't own Shameless.**

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><p><em>Just Don't Let Me Down: Chapter 10<em>

"You're hurting me," Ian said through clinched teeth as Lip tried to help the nurse get him changed. Lip sighed, holding his hands up in defeat, dropping the plaid shirt he'd been trying to pull on Ian on the side of the bed.

"I'm going to have to help sometime, dude. I mean when you get out of here their aren't going to be any pretty nurses that you get no pleasure out of looking at," The blonde nurse smirked, shaking her head. "But I'll let Kelsey finish it." Ian whimpered as she carefully removed the braces from his legs and slowly pulled his boxers and then pants up.

"Just a bit more, sweetie," she said as she wiggled his pants over his hips. The metal had been removed the week before but he was still pretty sore.

"You know how I know you're completely drugged?" Lip said, running a hand through his hair and wishing for a cigarette.

"How?" Ian asked, his eyes shut as she buttoned his pants and refit the braces on his legs over his pants.

"Because you've had a catheter in your dick for almost two months and you've yet to say anything about it," Lip answered, a small grin on his face. Ian grimaced at the thought and raised his middle finger at his brother.

"Once we get you walking again we can take it out, Ian," Kelsey said, raising the bed so she'd have more luck with putting his shirt on than Lip. Ian swallowed thickly as she helped him pull away from the bed. "Your sister said we can cut this one for the halo, so just bear with me for a minute, okay?" Ian closed his eyes are she cut slits in the shirt that the bars of the halo could fit through.

"I don't know why I just noticed this," Ian said, rubbing at his nose. "but this thing itches like crazy. Who's idea was it to put fur on the inside of the chest piece?" Kelsey smiled as she buttoned his shirt for him.

"It's either fur or getting blisters from the plastic. It might not seem like it, but the fur is better," she said. She bit her lip, swallowing a sigh.

"It'll look better without the IV bag. Everyone would just assume that you're a drug riddled kid who doesn't know what he's talking about. You think you can do without them for a while? We can give you something not as strong in a pill form and then get you hooked back up as soon as you're back in the van. I promise."

Ian looked up and met Lip's eyes. Lip shrugged a shoulder and gave him a small nod.

"I can do it. At least I think I can." Kelsey gave him a small smile as she carefully brushed his hair.

"You need a haircut," Lip said. "I got used to the West Point look." Both Gallagher boy's froze, this being the first time West Point had been brought up out loud since the attack.

"I can't talk about that right now," Ian said quietly, his gaze locked on his hands. Kelsey bit her lip, noticing the tension and moved away.

"I'm going to go get the wheelchair for you, Ian. That and the pain pill. I'll be back in a minute." She gave a small nod to Lip as she left the room.

"I didn't mean to bring it up," Lip said, his voice low. Ian bit his lip, finally looking up at his brother.

"I seriously can't talk about it right now. I've got to do one shitty thing at a time, and seeing as how I've got to be in court in about two hours, that ranks higher than talking about how my goals in life are out the window and I'm now a fucking cripple, okay?" There was a bite to Ian's voice that made Lip flinch but he nodded.

"You're not a cripple. But yeah, I got it." He said, trying to give Ian an encouraging smile but failing. Shortly after, Kelsey returned with an out of breath Mickey at her heels.

"Sorry!" He panted, bending at the waist with his hands on his knees. "Sorry, Linda was late getting back from taking the kids to school and I had to open the store. Shit you have clothes on," He said, cocking his head to the side as he stated the obvious. Lip snorted, shaking his head.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Mick. You missed naked Ian time by a whole five minutes!" Mickey shoved Lip as Ian's cheeks turned red.

"Shut up, Lip," he mumbled. Kelsey moved forward and unhooked the IV from the needle in Ian's arm. She handed him the cup with the pill in it and a glass with a straw. He grimaced as he swallowed, handing the glass back to her. An orderly entered the room and Kelsey gave him a sad smile.

"This might be a bit painful. I suggest keeping your eyes closed, it might help." Ian took a deep breath and did as he was asked. He held his breath as the orderly and Kelsey carefully got him from the bed to the chair, the pain in his back making him gasp. "Good. Good job Ian," Kelsey said with a smile as she clipped together a seatbelt around his lap and got his legs situated out straight on the feet rest. "You're all set! The van should be here in a bit. Just hold tight."

Kelsey and the orderly left the room as Ian sat with his eyes shut, trying to catch his breath. Mickey moved behind Ian, squeezing his shoulder slightly.

"How's it feel to be semi up right?" He asked a small on his face.

"It took far too much effort considered I used to be able to kick Lip's ass with one hand tied behind my back."

"Haha, fuck you," Lip deadpanned, rolling his eyes. He nodded his head at Tony, who had just walked in the room.

"Van's downstairs, ready to go?" He asked, signing a paper on a clipboard Kelsey had handed him.

"Fiona's not here yet," Ian said quietly, his eyes wide.

"She's going to meet us at the court house, kid. It's right across the street from her new job. She'll be there." Tony nodded to Mickey who sighed but took the handles of the wheelchair. He pushed Ian down the hallway, following Tony and Lip who were chatting quietly. He watched as the van driver took over the chair and moved him onto a lift to gently get him in the van. Mickey sat in front of him, turning in his seat so he could talk quietly to his boyfriend.

"You okay?" he asked, placing a hand lightly on Ian's knee.

"I guess. Too late to turn back now. I just want to get this over with, you know. I just don't want to think about it anymore." Mickey sighed, squeezing Ian's knee slightly.

"You're going to have to talk about it eventually. I mean past this," Ian glared but Mickey smiled slightly. "I won't push. But we'll talk about it eventually."

* * *

><p>They rode in silence, Ian's breath becoming more shallow the closer to the court house they got. Mickey reached out and took his hand, keeping his eyes on Tony and the driver. He squeezed gently, letting out a deep breath.<p>

"You're going to be okay. It's almost over. You're going to be okay," Mickey repeated over and over. He hated the moment when they pulled up to the court house and Mickey had to let go.

Fiona met them inside the court house, dressed in a dress Ian had never seen before. She gave him a watery smile as she bent low and gave him a gentle hug.

"It's going to be okay, Ian. It's almost over," she whispered in his ears.

"Not it's not," he whispered. "Is that a new dress?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, and I didn't even have to leave the tags on it," Fiona said with a small smile. "This new job is really going to pay off, I think."

"Good," Ian said with a smile. "We need something to go right for once." She rolled Ian over to a bench where she and Lip sat down. She gave raised an eyebrow at Mickey who hung around beside them but didn't ask. Ian would tell her when he was ready. The siblings didn't say much as they waited, Lip and Fiona regularly shooting Ian worried looks.

"Gallagher?" an office of the court called from the door of the court room. "Ian Gallagher?"

Ian raised a hand as Fiona took the handles of the wheelchair. She pushed him to the door where the office took over. Ian kept his gaze forward as he was pushed down the isle of the court room. He tried his best to ignore the whispers and stares coming from those watching from the gallery. He was pushed to right in front of the box where the witness normally sat, his wheelchair locked in place. Another officer moved in front of him with a bible. He placed one hand on it and raised his other hand, answering "I do" when the moment came.

"Ian Michael Gallagher, you were attacked on the day of June 3, 2012, is this correct?" The district attorney, Calla, asked, her posture straight and her blonder curls teased to the max.

"Yes, ma'am," Ian said, clearing his throat.

"Can you tell me what happened on that night, please?" She asked, taking off her black rimmed glasses and laying them on top of her open notebook. Ian let out a shaky breath, shooting a glance at Mickey who was sitting in the back of the gallery with Fiona and Lip.

"I had been with my…my boyfriend," Ian said, swallowing thickly when a low whisper seemed to cross the room. "We had been at the little league fields, just hanging out. He had left and I stayed behind to go on a run. I…I was trying to get into West Point and you have to pass a fitness test. I had taken to running at night since it was cooler then. I was getting ready to leave the dugouts when I heard someone behind me."

"And who was it that was behind you?" Calla asked.

"Alex and Brett Conkle." There was another low mumble across the court yard and the judge banged his gavel, calling for silence.

"Can you tell the court what they did to you, Ian?" Calla asked.

"Alex…Alex said that he had heard a rumor about me. He said he'd heard that I was gay and that he and Brett were going to beat it out of me," Ian tried to control his breathing but he could feel it speeding up. He kept his eyes on his family, biting his lip when Mickey moved to the edge of his seat. "They had baseball bats. Brett took his to my left leg first and when I fell to the ground Alex took his to my right leg." Ian stopped, taking a deep shuttering breath.

"What happened next, Ian?" Calla pressed gently.

"They kept hitting me the bats, over and over again. I don't know how long it lasted," Ian licked his lips, taking a shuttering breath. "Then they started kicking me these thick boots they had on." Calla stood, pulling two plastic bags, each holding a pair of boots.

"Are these the boots, Ian?" she asked, holding them in front of Ian.

"Yes, ma'am. Brett tried to kick me in the face and I was able to see them close up."

"You may continue," she said, putting the boots back on the table.

"They continued to kick me over and over again; my ribs, my stomach, my neck. I tried to keep my head and face protected the best I could. When they left,

"I would like to call the juries attention to the ER report from Dr. Johnson," Calla said, clicking a button on a remote at the television. Ian bit his lip as picture after picture of his injuries rolled past. "Dr. Johnson has reported that Ian's injuries included a broken tibia and two shattered knee caps, a broken pelvis, internal bleeding in his stomach, a broken right wrist and shattered left hand. There were also four broken ribs, one of which punctured his lung. The most severe injury was fractures to his neck and spine, namely his C-6, C-7, T-1, and T-2. As you can see, two months later Mr. Gallagher is struggling to recover from this viscous attack."

Ian would have given anything to be able to duck his head, to avoid the pitting looks everyone seemed to be shooting him. He cursed the halo in his mind as his hands gripped the arm rest of the wheelchair tightly.

"I have no further questions for this witness, your Honor," Calla said, slipping her glasses back on as she sat. A scrawny man dressed in a too small suit stood from behind the defendant's table.

"Mr. Gallagher, are you sure that the men you saw were my clients, Alex and Brett Conkle?" his voice was high and he seemed nervous; as if this was his first trial.

"Yes, sir," Ian said, always polite like Fiona had taught him.

"But you were in a great deal of pain, can you be sure?"

"Yes, sir," Ian said, his voice growing louder. "I've known Alex and Brett since I was six. I would know them anywhere."

"Were you on drugs or under the influence of alcohol the night of the attack?" The attorney said, and even to Ian's untrained ears he could tell the main was stretching.

"No, sir. Like I said, I'm applying to West Point and there are rigorous drug test and physical exams. I wouldn't do anything to mess up my chances of getting in."

"Could this have been about anything else; something unrelated to your sexuality?"

"I have known them since I was six. We have never had problems. They specifically said they were going to "beat the gay out of me," Ian's voice cracked as is got louder. His breathing was becoming more shallow and he could see Lip reach out and grab Mickey's arm to pull him back into his seat. "I begged them to stop. I tried to fight them. They're both a foot taller than me and almost twice my size; I tried to reason with them, I tried to fight. There wasn't anything I could do. They just kept hitting me."

Ian closed his eyes, the fat tear drops falling down his face and pulling in his hands. The murmurs were filling the court room again and Ian wanted nothing more than to just tell them all to shut up and leave him alone. He could feel Alex and Brett glaring at him as if to say if he knew what was good for him he'd stop talking. He let out a shuttering breath, glancing back up at the lawyer, waiting for more abuse. Instead the man sighed and shook his head.

"I have no more questions, your honor." Ian let out a sigh of relief as the bailiff moved behind him and pushed him back down the aisle. Fiona, Lip and Mickey were waiting for him in the hall. Mickey had his hands balled up in his hair as he paced, trying to keep his breath steady.

"You did great, Ian," Fiona whispered as she hugged him gently again. "With that shit lawyer, they're not going to get off. You did so good." She kissed his forehead, squeezing his shoulder. "I've got to get back to work, but I'll be in to see you later for a bit, okay? I love you."

"I love you, too," Ian whispered, the tears still rolling down his face. Lip nodded his head as he moved away to talk to Tony, giving Mickey a chance to talk to Ian.

"I'm going to kill them," Mickey growled as he sat down on the bench, putting him at eye level with Ian.

"Don't," Ian whispered. "I kinda need you here and not in jail."

"I'm so sorry this happened to you. If I could, I'd put myself in your place so you'd never have to feel this much pain, ever. But we're going to get you through this, okay? I love you and I'm not giving up. I'm here for the long ride."

Ian's face crumbled as Mickey continued to whisper to him. He took a shuttering breath, trying to control himself. "I want to go home. Please, I just want to go home."

At that money Tony and Lip had moved behind him, Tony taking the handle of the wheelchair.

"Not yet, kid. You've got a long road ahead of you."

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><p><em><strong>AN:<strong>__ I hope you liked it. Please review. And just a note, I'm not sure if a halo is the actual treatment for the spinal injuries I listed, so please don't jump down my throat in reviews. Thanks_


	11. Chapter 11

_I don't own Shameless._

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><p><strong>Just Don't Let Me Down: Chapter 11<strong>

"I don't want to sleep," Ian whispered as Kelsey moved around him on the bed, getting him hooked back up to his IV.

"You're kidding me, right?" Mickey said, cocking an eyebrow at him. He had already crashed in the chair next to Ian's bed and was making himself comfortable.

"I don't want to have bad dreams…" Ian whispered.

"If you need something to help you sleep, sweetie, just let me know," Kelsey said, pushing a few last buttons on the machine next to his bed. Ian whispered his thanks and she gave him a small smile as she left.

"You've had a big day," Mickey said, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"I'm not tired," Ian growled back, his eyes already drooping. The pain pills had started to wear off on the drive back to the hospital and he was thankful of the IV now pumping into his arm.

"Bullshit," Mickey whispered, a small smile on his face. He cocked his head to the side, watching Ian fight to keep his eyes open.

"I'm just going to dream about that night," he said quietly. "I'm not going to get any real sleep. I just want to stay up and talk with you."

"Oh? Well I was going to sleep to."

"Mickey…" Ian whispered and Mickey sighed.

"What if I lay with you? I can wake you up if you have a nightmare. That work with you?" Ian closed his eyes and swallowed thickly.

"I guess that works," Ian whispered, not opening his eyes. Mickey sighed, slowly climbing to his feet. He stood a moment at the side of the bed, trying to remember how the nurses had told him to move Ian if needed. He scratched at his arm, cocking his head to the side.

"Bear with me, this might hurt a bit," Mickey said, carefully wrapping his arms around Ian's torso. He could feel Ian tense under his hands, the smaller boy holding his breath. Mickey moved Ian as fast as he could, trying to keep from hurting him. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Mickey smiled. He slipped of his shoes and slid the jeans he had thrown on over his short that morning off and threw them in a pile on the chair. He climbed into bed next to Ian, doing his best not to jostle the bed. Mickey lay on his side, gently laying an arm across Ian's waist. He rubbed small circles across his hips, the scars from the metal structure evident under the pads of his fingers.

"I've missed this," Ian whispered, his eyes still closed.

"Yeah," Mickey mumbled, his eyes falling shut.

"You'll still be here when I wake up, right?' Ian asked, his voice starting to slur.

"Of course," Mickey whispered, squeezing Ian's hip slightly in reassurance.

"And you'll wake me up if I have a bad dream?"

"I promise. Just go to sleep, Ian," Mickey whispered, leaning up so he could kiss Ian's forehead. And for the first time ever, Mickey fell asleep with Ian Gallagher in his arms.

* * *

><p>The next day Mickey sat on a crate in the back of the Kash and Grab, reading and smoking out the back door. He looked up, nodding his head at Lip as he came through the door. Mickey took one last heavy drag from his cigarette and through it outside and climbed to his feet.<p>

"What's up, dude?" He asked, taking money from old man Sampson as he paid for his second six pack of the day.

"Results are in," Lip said, leaning up against the door.

"Already?" Mickey asked, raising an eyebrow as Mr. Sampson left. "Ian just testified yesterday.

"Yeah, well the Conkle's had a shit lawyer and the fact that Ian had their DNA under his nails didn't help any."

"So what's the sentence?" Mickey asked, sitting at the edge of the stool.

"Minimum of 10 years, no more than 15. It's considered a hate crime since they did it because E's gay, so that's probably why they got more. But let's be honesty, they're both far too pretty to be in jail."

"So it's over?" Mickey asked, running a hand through his hair.

"The trial and dealing with the Conkle's, yeah. But I'm pretty sure we're not done getting Ian through this."

"Yeah…I had to wake him up four times last night because of nightmares and shit. The night nurse ended up drugging him up around three." Mickey said, yawning tiredly, suddenly remembering how tired he was.

"He hates that," Lip said, chewing on his lip. "He said not to say anything 'cause you'd freak out, but the drugs don't stop the dreams. They just make it so he can't wake up when the dreams get really bad." Mickey closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath.

"Fuck."

"Yeah, this isn't going to be easy." Lip said, walking to the back of the store and grabbing a beer.

"The hospital going to make him talk to someone?" Mickey asked, sliding a five out of his pocket and paying for Lip's drink.

"Haven't you heard? Gallagher's don't do therapy. I think Fiona would rather kill herself than let one of us go into therapy."

"Don't you think maybe there should be some kind of exception? I mean the kid's gone through some deep shit lately." Lip shrugged, cracking open his beer.

"I guess we'll just have to see how shit goes. Fiona talked to the doc this morning and they want to start him on physical therapy next Monday. So at least that's a step closer to getting home."

"Won't be soon enough," Mickey said, a small smile on his face.

"Yeah, well one step at a time. Fiona and I are working out some schedule so that at least one of us is there when he's with the therapist. Want me to count you in?"

"Uh, not yet? Don't get me wrong, I know this is important. But I have a feeling that physical therapy isn't going to go over well with him and I'd rather be there when he's happy. I'll keep to spending the night with him." Lip laughed, an actual real laugh that Mickey hadn't heard in months.

"Pussy," Lip said, pushing away from the counter he had been leaning on. "I'll keep you posted on therapy and grumpy Ian and you can keep being the good guy in this situation. Funny; Mickey Milkovich being a good guy. Never thought I'd see that day."

"Fuck you, Gallagher," Mickey said, shaking his head as Lip walked away. Lip laughed and flipped him off.

* * *

><p>Mickey slept with Ian every night that week, holding him tight. He quietly woke Ian up each time he had a nightmare. He was hyper aware to every sound as he tried to sleep, always trying to wake the younger teen before he started screaming. Sunday night the two boys lay together watching the news. The news about the trial was finally starting to trickle down and Ian was relieved. He squeezed Mickey's arm, staring ahead.<p>

"I start PT tomorrow," he whispered, his eyes glued on the television.

"I know," Mickey whispered back, squeezing Ian's hips in response.

"Are you going to be here?" Ian asked, sounding almost like a child.

"No, I've got to work. Besides, I'd rather stay on your better side and I feel that being here for PT isn't going to do that." Mickey leaned up and kissed Ian's cheek in apology.

"Okay," Ian said biting his lip. "This is going to suck."

"First time you've walked in two months and learning to walk with new knees? Yeah, I don't see that being fun."

"Hey, thanks for the optimism, jackass," Ian said with a small laugh. Mickey chuckled and grinned.

"It'll be okay. Just bit Lip's head off, listen to what the therapist tells you, and don't be the stubborn jackass I know you are. I'll be here the normal time and you can tell me all about it and how much it sucked. Sound good?"

"Sounds good, ass hole," Ian whispered, relaxing more in Mickey's arms as an episode of Family Guy came on the television. Mickey laughed, kissing Ian's chin. Ian only woke up once that night.

* * *

><p>Three days later Mickey met Lip in the coffee shop in the lobby of the Hospital. Lip already had the coffees and was sitting with his head in his hands. Mickey nodded at the old lady behind the counter as he sat down.<p>

"So how's PT been going?" Mickey asked with a grin as took his coffee.

"I'm going to kill him," Lip said tiredly. "You know, I figured this wasn't going to be easy. But it would be ten times easier if the dumbass would actually listen. Yesterday? Yesterday she taught him how to sit up on his own and how to stand up. That was it for two hours. And so now dumbass thinks he should be able to walk the fucking halls. So of course he throws a fucking fit because all we did today was sit up, stand up and walk from his bed to the chair across the room."

"He's stubborn," Mickey said with a shrug. "You should now this, dude. You've grown up with him. Not only is he a Gallagher, he's a red head which means he's born stubborn."

"Yeah, well, some lady at work apparently is on maternity leave so Fiona's taken on more hours which means that I have to do PT with him every day. But if I have to do it again I just might kill him," Lip let out a frustrated groan as he downed his coffee in one drink. "You think you could to it tomorrow? I know you said you wanted to stay on his good side, but me yelling at him isn't going to help anything." Mickey sighed, closing his eyes as he took a gulp of his coffee.

"Yeah…Yeah I'll do it. What time I need to be here?" Lip grinned, tipping his cup at Mickey.

"Be here at ten and bring your patience."

* * *

><p>Mickey sat down on the edge of the chair next to Ian's bed the next morning, looking nervously at the clock.<p>

"I thought you didn't want to do PT?" Ian asked quietly. Mickey shrugged, trying to give Ian a small smile.

"You're brother seems to think you're too stubborn for your own good and is about ready to kill you. Fiona's at work. Frank's drunk. Deb and Carl are at school, not that I'd let Carl come within two feet of you standing right now. Psycho little shit. Kev and V have work, too. So that leaves me."

"Glad I rank so high on your things to do list," Ian mumbled.

"Ay, don't pull that shit on me," Mickey said, pointing a finger at Ian. "I'm here. I love you. That's all that matters." The two boy's stayed silent, staring at each other until a blonde with spiky hair walked in the room.

"Well you're new!" she said with a smile. "I'm Lexi, Ian's therapist."

"Mickey," he said, shaking the offered hand.

"Okay, ready to get started, Ian?" She asked, moving forward to carefully fit a support band around his waist.

"I guess," Ian said, taking a deep breath.

"Okay, let's have you sit up like we've learned. Ian let out a shaky breath and carefully rolled to his side. He then sat up, using his hands to push him up from the bed.

"Good, good! That was very good, Ian! Much better than a couple days ago." She moved a walker in front of him and kept hold of his arm as he slowly climbed to his feet. Mickey gave him a small smile, the pride clear in his eyes.

Lexi stood behind Ian, her hand on the support band as he slowly took a couple steps.

"How's that feel, Ian? Are you in much pain?" she asked.

"I'm okay. I can go further today," He said, his voice stronger than Mickey expected.

"We don't want to overdo it," Lexi said quietly. "Don't lean over the walker so much, Ian. Try to keep your posture straight." Ian let out a shaky breath, straightening up with help of the halo. "Good. Very good. Just one foot after the other."

"Isn't that from some Christmas movie? " Mickey mumbled under his breath, making Ian laugh.

"Let's try walking to nurse's station and back." Mickey stayed next to Ian, watching the way his knuckles turned white as he gripped the walker tighter. The cast on his left hand had just been changed and Mickey could think of tons of things to draw on it. They moved slow, and Mickey could see the shine of sweat forming on Ian's forehead.

"How you feeling?" Lexi asked, reading Mickey's mind.

"I'm fine," Ian said, his jaw clenched. Mickey sighed in relief as he saw the nurse's station come into view. Lexi paused grabbing a wheelchair as they approached the desk.

"How about you sit down for a moment, sweetie," she said, gripping his arm tight.

"O-o-okay," Ian stuttered, lowering himself carefully onto the chair. Mickey crouched down in front of him, a small smile on his face.

"You did good, kid," he whispered. Ian was breathing hard and he gave Mickey a small smile in return.

"I don't think I can walk back," he whispered so Lexi couldn't hear him. He avoided Mickey's eyes. Mickey sighed and squeezed Ian's shoulder.

"Yeah, but you made it this far. Better than anyone expected. And I'm proud of you." Ian gave him a small smile.

"Maybe if I can sit here for a bit longer I can do it." Ian whispered and Mickey smiled.

"That's my boy," he said with a laugh. Mickey waved Lexi away when she went to get Ian back up. "Just give us a minute," he said to her, and the therapist gave him a small smile and a nod. "You tell me when you're ready, okay, Ian? You tell me when you're ready and not a minute before."

Ian looked up at him, his eyes filled with tears and a small smile on his face.

"I love you, Mickey," Ian whispered.

"I love you, too, kid. I love you, too."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN<strong>__: I hope you like it. Please review._


	12. Chapter 12

_I don't own Shameless._

**Just Don't Let Me Down: Chapter 12**

Lip was standing in the hallway arguing quietly with Tony when he got off the elevator. The teen kept pointing his finger in the cops face and then swinging his hand to point into Ian's room.

"You're not fucking going in there and telling him, you hear me? He's barely holding it together as it is. Just leave, Tony!"

"Lip, he has a right to know…" Tony trailed off, taking a step back when Lip shoved him.

"Don't you think he's already fucked up as it is? Telling him that fucker got off this easy isn't going to make things any better." Lip was panting heavily, his eyes wide.

"Whoa, what's going on? Mickey asked, reaching out and grabbing Lip's shoulder, pulling him away from the cop. Lip tore his arm away glaring. Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Alex Conkle committed suicide last night," he said quietly, glancing at Ian's door. "Hung himself using his bed sheet. Apparently you were right, he was far too pretty for prison."

"Fuck," Mickey said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What about Brett?"

"He may have been the dumber of the two, but he's apparently tougher. Has his own little gang on the inside; wasn't enough to save his brother though," Tony said, his eyes watching Lip who was pacing. Mickey sighed again, closing his eyes.

"I'll tell him," the ex-con whispered, looking up to meet Lip and Tony's eyes.

"What?" Tony asked, his eyes wide.

"Just go, Tony. I'll tell him. Might go over a little better than you telling him or Lip flipping out on him. I've got it. I know how he works." The two other men shared a glance before nodding, Lip rubbing at his eyes.

"Tell him I'll be back tomorrow. I can't stay here right now," Lip mumbled, glancing at Ian's room again.

"Dude, I've got it. Just go." Mickey leaned up against the wall, watching the two men walk away. He closed his eyes and counted slowly to five before pushing away from the wall.

Ian was asleep when he walked inside, but Mickey could tell his was fitful. His eyes were squeezed shut, his right hand folded into a tight fist. The red heads mouth murmured words that Mickey couldn't quite pick up. The older was sure that if it wasn't for the halo, Ian would be moving his head away from the dream that had seemed to catch him. Mickey bit his lip, crossing the room the perch on the edge of Ian's bed.

"E?" he said quietly, reaching out to grab Ian's hand. Ian whimpered, squeezing Mickey's hand tightly. "Ian? Come on, E, wake up." Ian moaned, his eyes slowly blinking open. Mickey grinned, realizing it probably looked more like a grimace than anything. Ian's blue-green eyes were filled with tears as he looked around.

"Mick?" He mumbled, shaking his hand lose to wipe at the fat tear drops rolling down his face.

"You okay?" Mickey asked quietly, taking Ian's hand back and squeezing it. Ian tried to give him a small smile, but they both knew it was fake.

"Just a bad dream," He mumbled, letting his eyes drop.

"Want to talk about it?" Mickey asked, frowning when the halo kept Ian from shaking his head, making him groan.

"No, I'm fine," Ian mumbled. "Did I hear yelling a little bit ago?" he asked, squinting at Mickey. Mickey bit his lip squeezing Ian's hand.

"You have to promise me that you won't get upset," Mickey said quietly, wincing when he realized that wasn't going to help him at all.

"What's going on?" Ian asked, his voice growing loader. Mickey held his index finger to his lips, whispering for Ian to 'shh.'

"Tony…Tony was here. Alex Conkle committed suicide in prison last night. He hung himself using his bed sheet." Mickey kept his eyes trained on Ian's face, watching the range of emotions. First there was a blank look, then his eyes grew wide, followed by anger, then fat tears were quickly falling down his face.

"This is my fault," he whispers, his eyes still wide. Mickey groaned, shaking his head.

"No it's not, Ian, he whispered, kissing the teens pale forehead.

"He killed himself because he was in there because of me. I'm the reason he killed himself." Ian took a deep breath, the sob escaping him before he could stop it.

"Hey, hey, stop that," Mickey said under his breath. "This isn't your fault, Ian. He was in there because he tried to kill you. That's why he was in there. That wasn't your fault; it was the least he deserved. And some guys aren't made to be in a place like prison. Fuck, I never want to go anywhere that isn't juvie. But this wasn't your fault, you got me? This wasn't your fault, Ian. None of this was your fault." Ian looked up at Mickey, his eyes filled with tears.

"Brett?" Ian asked, his voice quiet. Mickey let out a snort; this boy was too sensitive for his own good.

"Brett's fine. Apparently he's the head of his own gang on the inside and is some big hard ass. He was always such an idiot on the outside, but apparently you don't need brains to be on top in there. Just a bunch of muscles. And apparently the twins weren't as close as they appeared. Alex was too pretty for his own good. You know what that means…" Ian bit his lip, letting his eyes lower.

"So it's almost like he didn't get any punishment at all," Ian whispered, staring at his hands.

"Well, unless you count being some prison bitch or committing suicide in prison…." Mickey mumbled back, lifting an eyebrow. "But no, that doesn't seem like enough for fucking you up like this."

"I'm learning how to walk again. I'll be better soon," Ian said in his defense. Mickey gave him a small smile.

"You walking isn't what I'm worried about, E. But we'll get there."

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Mickey curled in the chair next to Ian's bed, his eyes falling shut. He was exhausted, and spending half the night comforting Ian's frequent mood swings hadn't helped anything. Ian had finally drifted off about a half an hour previous and Mickey was finally falling asleep too.

Ian's eyes flew open, flicking around the quiet, dark room. He was restless, and he wasn't sure he could sit in the bed any longer. He vaguely remembered Lexie telling him that he had to have help if he was going to get out of bed and walk around. Ian let his eyes fall on Mickey and sighed. The ex-con spent every night with Ian at the hospital, and he was sure he hadn't slept in a real bed in months. Ian didn't have the heart to wake him up. Instead, he followed the steps Lexie had taught him to sit up. It took a lot out of him and he leaned on his thighs, breathing hard.

Ian reached out with a shaky hand, grabbing the walker that had been left by his bed. With a deep breath, he pulled himself to his feet, swaying slightly. Ian kept his left hand wrapped as tightly as he could around the walker (which really wasn't that tight considering the cast that was keeping his healing, shattered hand still), and wrapped the other hand around the Iv pole. With a deep breath, his posture straight, Ian took a step. He let out a shaky laugh as he took another small step. He was doing it; he was walking by himself. He went to take another breath when his knee, the right one that had suffered the most injury, collapsed underneath him. Ian cried out as he fell hard to the ground.

The pain the shot up his spine felt like a vice grip had taken hold of him and vision swam in front of him. He moaned, in too much pain to move. Ian clinched his eyes shot, panting and trying to catch his breath. He was vaguely aware of Mickey saying his name as he blacked out.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Although it wasn't a bed, Mickey was pretty sure that this chair was the most comfortable chair he'd ever slept in his life. He was so exhausted but he couldn't bring himself to leave Ian by himself. Mickey was out, so glad he could finally sleep. He had just twisted onto his other side when he heard a loud thump and a moan. His eyes flew open, looking around wildly.

"Ian?" he called, his eyes landing on the empty bed. He untangled his limbs and rose to his feet quickly. "Ian?" He asked again, rounding the bed and freezing.

Ian lay on his stomach on the ground, the halo keeping him face down. The IV stand had fallen on top of him, laying across his back. He was moaning, his breath hitching.

"Shit," Mickey exclaimed, pressing the call button on the bed as he crouched next to Ian. "It's okay. You're okay," he mumbled, waiting for the nurse to answer.

"Can I help you?" Melissa's voice came across.

"We need help in here!" Mickey yelled, rubbing Ian's back carefully. "Please, Ian fell." Although the nurse's station was just across the hall, it normally took a good ten minutes before anyone answered Ian's calls. Tonight, however, Melissa came bounding into the room, yelling over her shoulder for more help. Mickey pushed himself against the wall, watching hopelessly as multiple nurses carefully rolled Ian back onto his back. He breathing was still coming in gasped but Mickey could tell he was unconscious.

"Go get a gurney," Melissa mumbled to an orderly. "We're going to have to take him down for some scans. Someone stitch up this cut," she gestured at the blood pouring from Ian's forehead. "And someone contact Dr. Johnson. See what he wants to do from here."

The medical staff quickly left Ian's room, pushing the frail teen on a gurney with another orderly pushing his IV stand next to him. Mickey let out a shaky breath, looking up to meet Melissa's eyes.

"I fell asleep…" he mumbled. He slid down the wall, holding his head in his hands. "I fell asleep. He didn't even try to wake me up." Melissa side, crouching down in front of Mickey.

"Hey, it's going to be okay. We're just making sure he didn't hurt himself when he fell. But I'm sure he's okay. This isn't your fault, Mickey. Everyone has to sleep sometime." Mickey let out a shaky breath, nodding. "Think you can call his family? I'll try to keep you posted as much as I can, okay? Mickey nodded, adverting his eyes. Melissa gave him a small smile and climbed back to her feet and quickly left the room.

Mickey let out a sigh and climbed to his feet, He perched on the edge of Ian's bed and pulled his cell phone out of his pocked. It rang a few times before a tired Lip answered.

"Mickey? What's wrong?" he asked, and Mickey could hear him yawning.

"I…I fell asleep, and Ian was apparently trying to walk by himself and he fell. They don't know if he's hurt himself more, but he passed out and they took him for some x-rays and stuff. I don't know what's going on, but I think you should come here." Lip let out a deep breath, and Mickey could even see him pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'll wake Fi up. One of use will be there soon." With that Lip hung up, causing Mickey to flinch in guilt.

.*.*.*.*.*.**.*.

"Where is he?" Fiona asked, her eyes wide as she entered Ian's room. Mickey flinched, almost wishing that it had been Lip here, threatening to punch him in the face. He cleared his throat, looking up at the scared Gallagher.

"They took him to get x-rays. They haven't brought him back yet," Mickey whispered, looking down at his hands. Fiona nodded, perching on the edge of an open chair.

"What happened, Mickey?" she asked quietly, reaching out and taking his hands that he had been ringing. He let out a shaky breath, still not looking up.

"I fell asleep," he started, trailing off. "I fell asleep, and he must have woke up and wanted to get up. He made it a couple steps it looked like, but then he fell. I woke up when he fell, but he'd already passed out. I called the nurse and they took him somewhere. She said she'd tell me what's going on, but no one's said anything. I don't…I don't know what's going on." Fiona gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand.

"I'm sure everything is going to be okay, Mickey," she whispered. He let out a shaky breath and nodded. "Mickey? What were you doing here so late?" Mickey froze, looking up with wide eyes.

"I….Ian and I…Ian's my boyfriend," he mumbled.

"I kind of figured. It's okay, Mickey," she whispered, giving him a small smile.

"I should have been there that night," he whispered, looking up at her with wet eyes.

"We don't blame you, Mickey. You've been here with him every step of the way since, and I'm sure you're going to help him with the rest of this. It's okay. We like you. We want you around." Fiona squeezed his hand, pulling him into a hug. "It's going to be okay."

The two sat for hours together, waiting for the nurse to finally bring back a sleeping Ian; new stiches in his forehead and his halo tightened. Melissa whispered something to Fiona about there being a little bit of damage to his spine and the halo needing to stay on a bit longer. Fiona smiled and thanked her as Mickey climbed to his feet and took Ian's hand.

"Don't scare me like that, ever again, you hear me Firecrotch," he mumbled to the sleeping figure. "Never again."

.*.*.*.*.

_**AN:**__ I hope you liked it! I'm so sorry it's been so long! School got crazy. But it's summer now, so I should update more! Please review! _


	13. Chapter 13

_I don't own Shameless._

* * *

><p><strong>Just Don't Let Me Down: Chapter 13<strong>

Fiona crossed her legs as she sat across from the doctor's desk, smoothing her dress with hands that shook just slightly. Dr. Johnson flipped through Ian's chart, clucking his tongue and making notes every so often. Fiona checked her watch and cleared her throat, giving the doctor a small smile when he looked up.

"I'm sorry, but do you think we can get started? I have to be at work in an hour."

"Yes, of course. Now, Ms. Gallagher, you're brother has been progressing fairly well," Dr. Johnson said, taking off his glasses.

"Yeah, he's a fighter," Fiona said, the pride for Ian swelling in her chest.

"I'm worried about the little tumble he took the other night. It kind of jarred his spine a bit and his knee is swollen."

"Trust me, I know," Fiona said, biting her lip. "The nurses have been putting ice on it, but it looks like a mess."

"We may need to slow down a little on the physical therapy," Dr. Johnson said, cocking his head to the side. "Pushing his healing joints, especially his new knees is just going to hurt him in the long run. Although going slow may be frustrating for Ian, this may help prevent him from needing more surgeries in the future."

"Whatever you think is best, doctor," Fiona said, knowing Ian was not going to be happy.

"Have you thought about having your brother talk to someone?" Dr. Johnson asked, and Fiona flinched.

"Like a shrink?" She said, shaking her head. "Gallagher's don't do therapy."

"I understand your aversion to it. But it might be something to think of. Your brother went through a very traumatic experience, Ms. Gallagher. We have no idea how he's dealing with it, even if he's dealing with it. I'm not saying he's going to, but it's common for people to snap if they let this much build up in their minds; especially after what Ian's been through."

"He's a fighter…" Fiona repeated, shaking her head. "What are you suggesting?"

"Now I want you to not get upset," Dr. Johnson said and Fiona said closing her eyes. "I believe your brother should be moved to a long term rehab facility; someplace where therapists can work with getting him back on his feet and taking care of himself, and dealing with the mental backlash of what's happened to him."

"You want to lock him up like he's crazy?" Fiona said, her voice cracking. "I won't do that to him; not after everything with our mom."

"No, no, nothing like that! I promise you, nothing like that. It's a more physical rehabilitation center, but we can have psychologist come talk to him. To help him."

"I don't know…" Fiona said, trailing off.

"Just think about it," Dr. Johnson said and she nodded slightly.

"I have to go. I'm going to be late for work," she said, climbing to her feet and grabbing her jacket.

"Just let me know what you decide, Ms. Gallagher. We'll do the best we can for your brother until then. "

* * *

><p>"But I want to get up," Ian said, and the bite to his voice made even Mickey want to flinch.<p>

"I know you do, sweetie," Melissa said, pressing a few buttons on the end of his bed. "But that fall a couple nights ago set you back a bit and Dr. Johnson wants you to slow down on the PT so you don't hurt yourself more."

"I'll just get up by myself," Ian said, crossing his arms over the chest piece of his halo. Mickey tried to hide the smirk on his face at the stubborn way Ian was looking at Melissa, but the nurse just rolled her eyes.

"I know you'll try," she said. "That's why I've turned the alarm on your bed on. And that's also why I'll be taking the walker with me when I leave. Don't make this more complicated than it has to be, Ian," she said, shaking her head. "I know you don't believe me, but we're trying to help you sweetie." With that she patted his leg, scooped up the walker under her arm and left.

"This is bullshit," Ian said with a huff, glaring at Mickey who chuckled.

"She has a point. I'd rather you not have to have any more surgeries before the years up, but that's just me. If you weren't such a stubborn fuck and listened in the first place, you wouldn't have to slow down. Obviously your therapist meant it when she said you needed help getting up and around."

"Yeah, yeah, I've got it. Fiona's told me twenty times by now, I don't need if from you too." Ian said, closing his eyes and swallowing thickly.

"Why are you so pissy?" Mickey asked and Ian flinched, keeping his eyes closed.

"I'm not," the red head said, and Mickey lifted a brow at him even though he knew Ian couldn't see it.

"Then what do you call this mood you've been in all day. I thought you were supposed to be the nice, sweet Gallagher?" Ian was quiet for a while, his fingers playing with the straps on his halo until Mickey reached up and pulled them away. Ian took another deep breath before opening his eyes and glancing at Mickey.

"They want me to talk to someone," he said quietly and Mickey cocked his head to the side. "As in, they want me to talk to a shrink. Even better, Johnson suggested they move me to a 'long term rehab facility where they can help both my legs and my mind.' AKA, they think I'm as crazy as Monica and want to lock me up."

"Fi wouldn't let that happen," Mickey said simply. "If she thought they were sending you there because they thought you were crazy, she never would let you go. Is she considering it?"

"I don't know. She said Johnson gave her a bunch of brochures and she's looking into it. I'm sure my opinion won't be taken into consideration."

"Probably not," Mickey said with a shrug, and Ian sighed.

"For what it's worth, I'm not crazy," Ian whispered and Mickey nodded.

"I know," Mickey said. "I think the doctors are just more concerned that you're gonna suffer some crazy backlash when you get out of here and try to kill yourself. I've tried to tell them it won't come to that, but what do I know."

"Yeah, well…" Ian trailed off, looking at his hands.

"You don't really want to kill yourself, do you?" Mickey said suddenly, not knowing why he'd never asked before.

"I don't know. No, not right now…" Ian said, and Mickey could feel his heart dropping to his stomach.

"But sometimes?" Mickey prompted and Ian shrugged, the action apparently not hurting the screws in his forehead anymore.

"What do you think? Say you were in my position, Mick," Ian said, his eyes flashing. "Say someone tried to kill you just because they didn't like who you were. Say the thing you loved the most was taken away from you, say you're only chance to get out was taken away. What would you do? You'd want to kill yourself, too, Mick. Don't even try to hide it."

"Yeah, well glad to hear your family isn't enough reason for you to fight. Or my sister. Or me," Mickey said, and he couldn't help the bitterness in his tone.

"I didn't mean it like that," Ian said, his hand shaking as he reached out for Mickey slightly.

"Just leave it," Mickey said, not taking the offered hand. "But you're going to keep fighting, you hear me? I'm not going to sit back and watch you kill yourself because of something you don't have control over."

"Okay," Ian said quietly.

"I've got to go. I've got to work," Mickey said, climbing slowly to his feet.

"Mickey," Ian said, his eyes wide. "Don't leave. I promise I'll keep fighting. I promise I won't give up!" The teen flung his legs over the bed and slowly pushed himself to a standing position. As soon as he did, the bed started beeping and Melissa came running in.

"What did I say, Ian," she said, gently pushing him back onto the bed while Mickey looked on with a guarded look.

"I promise," he said again to Mickey, his eyes filled with tears and Mickey nodded.

"I know. But I really do have to go to work; I'll be back in a couple hours, I promise." Ian bit his lip watching with wide eyes as Mickey tapped his foot and left.

* * *

><p>The panic attack at the thought of Mickey leaving was just the first of many. Sometimes, Melissa or Fiona would touch his arm when he was sleeping and he'd jerk awake, unable to breath or get his bearings straight or even remember where he was. Fiona always framed his face with her hands, whispering that he was okay until he was finally able to catch his breath and remember where he was.<p>

Carl came in his room once talking about the new bat he'd gotten and asking Ian if he remembered the time that Carl has shattered that football player who was dangling Lip out the window. But even though his little was waiting for an answer, a grin on his face, all Ian could picture was Alex winding the bat behind his shoulder and bringing it down fast to connect with Ian's knee like he was hitting a homerun. Ian had closed his eyes against the memory, his breath coming in gasps as he tried to block out the sound of his knees shattering over and over again. Allison, a new nurse had come in and stuck a needle in his arm and Ian could vaguely remembered Carl whispering that he was sorry as he was ushered out of the room.

The mornings when Mickey had to leave were the worst. Ian knew Mickey hated when he whined or cried, but he couldn't stop himself. Mickey tried to leave most mornings before Ian woke up, but Ian had taken to not being able to sleep if he couldn't feel Mickey's hand and that made leaving harder. The red head would stare up at Mickey with wide green eyes, tears threatening to fall.

"I'll try harder," Ian would whimper, and Mickey would sigh and let himself drop down onto the edge of the bed. "I'll try to be what you want me to be. Just please don't leave me."

"I'm just going to work, Firecrotch," Mickey whispered almost every day. "I'm going to work, take a shower and change my clothes, and then I'll be back, okay? I'll be back by four, just like every other day. And besides; you're perfect. You're everything I want you to be. I don't want you to ever change, you got me? Now go back to sleep."

* * *

><p>It was getting harder to pretend that nothing was wrong. Fiona hated to admit it, but she was starting to believe the rehab facility was a good idea. She was sitting at the kitchen table when Mickey let himself in the back door. She glanced up, offering him a pack of cigarettes as he sat down. Neither one of them said anything for a while before Mickey broke the silence.<p>

"He's cracking," he said, not meeting Fiona's eyes.

"I know," she said, blowing smoke out of her nose.

"He's starting to refuse sleep again, even if I'm there."

"Yeah, Melissa told me."

"What are we supposed to do?" Mickey asked, feeling completely out of his element.

"You're not going to like any suggestion I have," Fiona said, lighting another cigarette.

"Yeah, and what's that?"

"Have him talk to the psychologist, drag him through PT, and bring him home. Or send him to the rehab center where he can do PT at a safe pace, and he has to talk to psychologist." Fiona said, leaning forward with her arms resting on her thighs.

"Do all of your suggestions deal with a shrink?" Mickey asked, making a face.

"Or we can skip the shrink and PT, and let him come home just so he can kill himself within the first week. Which do you prefer," Fiona said, and Mickey understood where Ian got his smartass from.

"He's not going to like either of these." Mickey said after a long pause and Fiona sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, I know. I'd like to give him a choice, but I have a feeling he's not going to make things easy. But I'm just trying to do the best for him right now, Mick. I know this sucks for everyone involved; Carl locked himself in his room for two days after Ian's last freak out and I can't convince him to go back to the hospital. Debbie's terrified that someone's going to go marching into the hospital and kill Ian in his sleep. Lip's trying to keep Ian's sexuality under wraps on the streets so this doesn't happen again. This isn't easy. But we've got to do what's best for him."

"Yeah, I know," Mickey said, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

* * *

><p>"You know, the whole reason you aren't being moved to the rehab center is because you agreed to talk to someone here," Mickey said, gently flicking Ian's arm.<p>

"I have nothing to talk about," Ian said, glaring at Mickey as he tried to shift away.

"Right. You haven't slept longer than two hours a night in two weeks, you panic every time someone touches you, and you break out into hysterics every time I get up to piss. Yup, you have nothing to talk about," Mickey said, shaking his head. "You need to talk to someone, E. You can't let this keep weighing on you."

"I'm fine," Ian said stubbornly, and Mickey couldn't swallow the sigh escaping his lips.

"If you say so," he mumbled, nudging Ian over slightly so he could climb onto the bed next to him. Ian was asleep before Mickey could even get comfortable. But the silence didn't last. Three hours later, Mickey woke to Ian screaming, the red head's grip on his arm almost painful.

"Yup, you're totally fine," Mickey groaned, sighing as he shook Ian awake. Mickey had no idea how to fix this; how to fix Ian. But he knew that someone had to do something. Soon.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN<strong>__: I hope you liked it. Please review!_


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